


Sinners

by rennerfan_1



Category: Jeremy Renner - Fandom, The Unusuals
Genre: F/M, Jeremy Renner - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 42,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rennerfan_1/pseuds/rennerfan_1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A killer is striking in New York and it's up to Jason Walsh and Casey Shraeger to bring justice to the victims and their families. Their investigation is hard-going, fruitless at times and they know they need to catch the Killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated

Walking down the silent and dimly lit corridors of the morgue always sent chills up the detective’s spine and the unpleasant odour of death lingers like a dark cloud. Detective Jason Walsh had been called out at two-thirty in the morning after just closing the diner at one and collapsing into bed, to be told he was needed at a crime scene on the other side of the city. It had taken him almost thirty minutes to get there and as soon as he arrived at the scene, he knew it was bad. The body of a young woman had been found by a late night dog walker and he had called the authorities, had sat in the back of an ambulance and was treated for shock. Jason had surveyed the scene, a secluded park where children would play on the swings and round about, climbing up and down the rope pyramid until their hearts were content while their parents looked on anxiously. 

The chains on a swing had been wrapped around the woman’s arms, her legs positioned so that the body didn’t slump to the ground. Her head had been bowed and her lifeless green eyes stared at the tarmac. She was covered from head to foot in blood and she was naked, her clothes and belongings left in a neat pile. Jason had felt physically ill when he saw the body and this latest act of evil only sickened him that the cases he worked were getting more and more disturbing. He didn’t like that there seemed to be more psychopaths out there than sane people; criminals he could deal with, but he found himself being surprised and shocked more often. 

Jason enters the morgue suite and the odour of death is pungent and unrelenting, turning his already queasy stomach. He waits patiently away from the corpse on a gurney and one of the assistants tell him that Dr Reynolds will be with him in a few minutes. He’s never liked the morgue, always found the place creepy and he swears if he believed in the supernatural, he imagined the place would be haunted. In his time as a serving officer, he had seen drunk driving accidents, traffic collisions, various variations of homicides and suicides and other suspicious deaths; every time he had to tell a family, a mother and father or a son and daughter that someone they cared about was now lying in the morgue’s cooler, taken apart and put back together again like a jigsaw puzzle.

Dr Reynolds come out of the second doorway that leads into a shower room and locker room for staff, hygiene and sterility a huge component to their profession and a safety issue.

"Detective Wash, it’s good to see you" Dr Reynolds says cheerfully, but her facial expression is serious and she looks exhausted."I’m glad you are working this case"

"Yeah, why’s that?"

"Because this case is going to be particularly nasty." She explains and pulls on a pair of gloves."She had been dead only a few hours before she was found."

"Any idea on cause of death?"

"She was bloody and beaten and some of her injuries are consistent with prisoners of war, torture injuries. All the joints in her fingers on her left and right hand has been dislocated and crushed, consistent with being yanked by pliers. There are cigarette burns all over her body, some very old and some that happened shortly before death."

Jason listens closely and scribbles down notes, nodding in understanding.

"Her toes were also broken and dislocated and she suffered several broken ribs and a fractured sternum"

"How much force would be needed to crack the sternum?" He asks curiously."It’s a pretty tough bone"

"The abrasions to the chest are consistent with some type of mallet or hammer and she was probably concious while all of this was going on. There’s a mixture of partial footprints on her stomach"

“I’m guessing she was stomped on, right?” He’s seen the same type of injuries before.

"Exactly. What I can tell you is that her face wasn’t touched physically, but the corners of her mouth are slightly split from being gagged."

"So, her killer didn’t depersonalise her?" He glances up from his notebook."Any defence injuries"

"None whatsoever. There are track marks in her groin and on the inside of her elbows. I’ve sent for tox results, but they’ll probably be a week or so. I’ve also made you a copy of her prints. She was bound. Her wrists and ankles have infected abrasions, so it’s possible she was restrained for quite some time"

"Thanks. I’m guessing that If she was a regular user she’s already on the radar." He answers, cocking his head to look at the young woman.

Jason guesses that she’s no older than thirty and the slight gauntness is due possible malnourishment and substance abuse. Again, he’s seen it all before.

"What I can tell you is that she died from having her cut throat from behind. A right handed assailant, who had the power to perhaps subdue her if he was working alone. Clean cut, deep enough to sever the windpipe and the jugular. It would have taken less than two minutes to bleed out"

"Thanks, doc. I’ll run the prints and see if we get a hit on our end." He says with a sigh."What about her personal belongings?"

"The labs have them now and should be processing them. It is odd that the killer took the time to fold them. There wasn’t any blood on her clothing."

"Did you run a PERK kit?" He asks and wants to be absolutely sure what he’s dealing with.

"Of course I did. They should take a few days to come back, but there was evidence of recent sexual activity and there were condoms in her purse. It’s possible our tests show the spermicide and not any DNA, but there is bruising on the insides of her thighs. I’ll fax you and email you my report and I’ll let you know when the tests come back from tox and the trace labs"

"Thanks, doc" Jason says and takes one last look at the brunette before turning and leaving the autopsy suite. 

His stomach feels even queasier as he processes the list of injuries.

A headache caused by tiredness and frustration grows like a pressure in his skull as he goes through the missing persons reports from the last seventy-two hours, using the little information he had to try and pinpoint a possible identity for the nameless woman in the morgue. So far there are eighteen possible identities for the woman and the fingerprint identification system is taking forever to process the fingerprint card.

The open-plan office that’s filled with desks pushed together, computers that choose if and when they will work is relatively empty since everyone is out working their own cases and Jason’s only company is the bubbling pot of coffee on top of the filing cabinet.

"You’re still here?"

Jason glances up in the direction of the voice and let’s out a frustrated groan as his partner, Casey Shraeger sets down a bundle of paperwork on her desk opposite him.

"Yeah, still here. We need new computers that actually work." He sighs and crosses his arms across his chest.

"Uhuh and while you’re asking the chief for new technology, you may as well ask for a raise while you’re at it" 

"Think he’ll go for it?" Jason smirks and raises his hands in surrender when Casey shoots him a look."Okay, a guy can dream"

"You’re definitely dreaming, Walsh"

A notification on the computer sounds and Jason checks the screen.

"Anything? Casey asks curiously.

"Looks like I’ve got a name for the   
homicide victim.”


	2. Chapter 2

The body of a deceased young woman had been identified as twenty-two year old Lucy-Ann Walker by her fingerprints and clearly had a criminal record. Jason studies the print out of her file as Casey drives to her parent’s address in a more luxurious part of the city where money talked and they drank champagne with every meal. 

The social classification in this area was strange; the snobs refusing to mix with anyone outside their class and flaunted money, their influences and power in a marching band style. Casey Shraeger came from that lifestyle, but wanted to do something good and honest with her life and for her that meant becoming a cop, much to her friends and family’s dismay. She didn’t flaunt what she had to anyone and didn’t think she was better than anyone else; overall a good cop and a good human being.

"So, what do we know about her?" Casey asks as she glances in the rear-view mirror.

"Came into the criminal system at the age of fifteen, was caught spray painting and shoplifting at a twenty-four seven garage"

"What was she stealing?"

"Alcohol. For some reason she was brought in front of a children’s panel and three days before the meeting, the owner mysteriously dropped the charges" He says as he reads."Three months later she was picked up again for smashing several windows at a church and the day after that, she was caught shoplifting at Wal-mart. All charges were dropped"

"Sounds like the claimants were given hush money and the bills paid for."

"Sounds like it." Jason says, yawning."Four months after that she really outdone herself. She was caught selling methamphetamines to kids at school and the principle refused to drop the charges. A St Vincent Le Claire Academy. Know it?"

"It’s a private school. Very good and very expensive."

"So I could never send my kids there?" He replies with a smirk.

"Not even if you won the lottery, Walsh. What else?"

"At sixteen she was charged with assault on a Professor Blake, who was her teacher and then she was sentenced to Juvenile detention for six months" He says and dampens his finger and thumb, turning the page."Was caught in Juvi with a small amount of cannabis and was cautioned and charged. She came out and disappeared for the next year"

"Could be that her parents removed her from the area that she was familiar with and figured she would cause less trouble"

"Could be. There’s more, but they’re mostly drug charges, shoplifting and a car-jacking that couldn’t be pinned on her" He says, placing the file in the glove box.

"Why didn’t the car-jacking stick?"

"Same as her early offences." He says simply."The charges were dropped and she was free to go. At the age of twenty, she was sentenced to a year in the pen for getting into a bar brawl. But get this, she was fighting with a known prostitute who claimed that Lucy-Ann was stealing her customers"

"She was a prostitute?"

"Nothing for certain, but it’s implied. She’s had a habit for a while and it just doesn’t surprise me" He answers, giving his opinion.

"Wow. Mom and dad must have been real proud."

"My guess is that they would have done anything to stop everyone else finding out about their daughter’s activities." Jason says and glances up at Casey."I’m not having a go at you."

“I know you’re not. But these people  
are so far up their own asses they wear shit smelling perfume.”

 

The two detectives sit like bookends on the caramel leather sofa, taking in their grand surroundings of cream plush carpets and a gorgeous view of well maintained gardens through the open patio doors. They watch as a man walks up from the bottom of the garden with a flute of champagne in hand, a stiff shirt collar underneath a grey waistcoat. 

The man introduces himself as   
Stephen Walker, Lucy-Ann’s father, a square shouldered man with silver grey hair that’s parted to the side.

"How can I help you, detectives?" His accent is sincere of an upper-class socialite and private education and it’s obvious that he is used to the very best.

"I’m afraid we’re not here to deliver good news" Casey says seriously."Is your wife at home? We really need to talk to the both of you"

Stephen Walker eyes them both suspiciously and gives them a curt nod before ringing for the maid and telling them to locate his wife. He gets the same maid to fetch him another glass of champagne while they wait for his wife, Barbara.

A few minutes later, Barbara Walker enters the room and she instantly starts to judge the two unexpected guests, looking at them as if they’ve brought some disgusting disease into her home.

"Guests, Stephen?" She asks in a snooty, unpleasant manner.

"Yes, dear" He confirms."Police officers."

"And what do we owe this unexpected….pleasure?" Barbara Walker says, distancing herself and sitting on the opposite sofa.

"Early this morning we discovered the body of a young woman. When was the last time you heard from your daughter, Lucy-Ann" Casey says cautiously and she can tell Jason is studying the couple.

"Lucy-Ann?" Stephen Walker asks.

"Yes." Jason steps in."Mr Walker, we believe that this young woman is Lucy-Ann"

"How can you possibly know that?" Stephen questions again, a little dumbfounded."We haven’t seen or heard from her in weeks. The only time she comes around is when she’s in trouble"

"We matched the fingerprints from the body to a set of fingerprints on our system. It was a positive match." Jason explains."What do you mean by trouble?"

Stephen and Barbara share a concerned look, trying to communicate without so much as a single word spoken and both detectives notice it.

"I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this crime" Jason says assertively.

"What happened to her?" Barbara asks quietly and anxiously.

"Your daughter was murdered Mrs Walker and we don’t know who by yet or why."Casey jumps in with the explanation."But we are doing everything we can to bring the perpetrator to justice. But we need your help. We need to know everything there possibly is about your daughter. Help us to help her"

Another pregnant silence falls between the couple and it’s Stephen whose the first to speak.

"Lucy-Ann is…was a handful. She was a happy child and when she got into her teenage years, she became…she got out of control."

"What do you mean by out of control?" Jason asks and dismisses the look Walker is giving him."Did she get up to anything she shouldn’t. Date boys when she shouldn’t have. What?"

"I know you’ve already read her file detective and I don’t appreciate being treated like an idiot." Stephen answers firmly."You know exactly what she got up to and it was all because she got in with the wrong crowd."

"Her troubles started at a young age." Casey muses vocally."Do you know any of her friends from that time?"

"Friends?" Barbara scoffs."Friends? Those people weren’t friends, detective. They were the scum of the earth who tainted her. We never knew who any of them were. She never told us"

"Didn’t you ask?" Casey asks and she has a feeling that she already knows the answer.

"Don’t be ridiculous!" Stephen snaps."Of course we didn’t know who got her into that….lifestyle."

"When was the last time you saw her?" Jason asks, changing tact.

"Around three weeks ago. She came over" Barbara takes a sip of her own champagne."She said she needed money."

“How did she seem, Mrs Walker?” Jason asks as he looks up from his notebook.”Did she seem worried about anything or say that something was bothering her?”

"Only that she needed money. Yes, she asked for money and left." The unconcerned mother replies.

"How much did she want?" Casey asks curiously. 

"Almost eight thousand dollars" Barbara replies quietly and instantly Stephen steps in.

"I understand why you are asking these questions, but I don’t think that it’s relevant."

"We don’t know what’s relevant right now or not. But we need to look at everything" Jason argues."Did Lucy-Ann say why she needed eight thousand dollars?"

"No." Stephen answers. "We’ve funded her habit for as long as we can and we made the decision to refuse her. She needs to learn to stand on her own two feet. She’s an adult and clearly has her own life."

 

Barbara and Stephen Walker didn’t reveal anymore information regarding their daughter, but Jason and Casey knew that there were still truths to uncover in this case. The Walker’s weren’t giving anything away and it was hardly surprising if the rest of their socialite buddies found out about their troublesome daughter.

Jason yawns as he opens the door to the diner, completely exhausted from trying to find out as much information as he could about Lucy-Ann Walker and even though his desk was covered in printouts before he left the precinct. After locking the door, he pulls off his tie and jacket as he makes his way through to the back of the diner where his open-plan apartment resides. Jason collapses onto the bed after shimmying out of his clothes and pulls the covers over his head, the thought of the buzzing alarm clock already looming in his thoughts. He’s beyond tired and a good nights sleep is exactly what he needs, to sleep through until morning without any interruption’s or calls of natures at an ungodly hour. He just wants to sleep and to forget the horrors of the homicide of Lucy-Ann Walker

***

Jason doesn’t feel very refreshed as he answers his ringing cell-phone, staring bleary-eyed at the caller I.D

"Walsh" He mumbles and glances at the alarm clock that readers four-thirty-seven.

"Detective Walsh, this is Sergeant Patterson from custody." A gruff voice sounds on the other end."We’ve got a Sam Tulley held up in custody"

"So, what’s the problem?" 

"He says he’s got some information about that broad you and Shraeger ended up with" Patterson explains."Thought I’d give you a call."

"Okay. I’ll be there in half an hour."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wonderful people want the next chapter, I need feedback. I say it's a fair deal, don't you?

The custody block is quiet, except for the bored chatter from the two officers behind the desk. They are discussing football as Jason walks in, sleepy and annoyed about being woken up abruptly for the second night in a row. As he got dressed and made his way to the precinct, he couldn’t help but be sceptical of whatever information this Sam Tulley had, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility of a potential lead.

"Sargent Patterson called me about Sam Tulley who wants to speak to me" He says, yawning.

"Sure." The boyish looking officer with ginger hair and a southern twang says."The sarge is just out for a smoke. He’ll be here in a minute"

As if being dragged out of bed isn’t bad enough, now he has to wait. 

Jason taps his foot impatiently to a rhythm inside his head as barrel-belly Patterson comes through the   
locked double doors.

“Walsh, glad you decided to come down” 

Bill Patterson had been the custody Sergeant for as long as Jason could remember and despite a very active service on patrol, a bullet that shattered his hip had been the end to his legacy.

"Didn’t have much choice if the guy has a genuine lead" Jason shrugs.

"Don’t know how good the kid will be ‘cause he just spiked before he got brought in"

Patterson tells the two officers behind the desk to bring Tulley to interview room three as he grabs the printed out charge sheet.

"What’s he in for?"

"Possession and shoplifting. Pretty minimal considering his brother’s the real crook of the family. Eric Tulley would be pitching a fit if he knew his baby brother was so holed up in a cell for something so petty"   
Patterson answers and announces he’s sitting in on the interview, which doesn’t bother Jason as much as it probably should do. 

"Let’s get this over with so I can go home to bed" he mumbles as he enters the humid interview room."If I’m lucky I’ll be gone in an hour"

 

Twenty-six year old Sam Tulley is not a career criminal, that much is obvious as Jason flicks through the arrest report and eyes the greasy haired, acne scarred young man who is overly thin and gaunt from years of substance abuse. Unlike his brother, Sam was opportunistic and in some ways, committed crimes when he really had to, such as stealing to fund his next fix or some food. Nothing like Eric Tulley who is currently serving eighteen years in prison for armed robbery. Jason’s met kids like Sam Tulley, who thinks he’s invincible until that moment he’s sitting in a cell.

"So, you wanted to talk to me?"

"Uh…yeah. Sure" Tulley answers nervously, his hands shaking in the metal cuffs.

"You told Sergeant Patterson you knew Lucy-Ann Walker. Tell me about it and don’t waste my time because I’m not in the mood. How do you know her?"

"We have the same dealer" Sam Tulley replies quietly."I ain’t ratting on him, man."

"I’m not interested in what he’s dealing, Sam" Jason says evenly."I’m interested in if her substance abuse is what got her killed."

A thin layer of sweat forms on Sam’s upper lip and thick droplets run down from his greasy mop of hair and down his forehead and nose. With both hands cuffed together, he wipes his brow with the back of his hand.

"Marshall Gordon."

Jason writes the name down in his notebook and circles the name as a possible lead. Anything is possible at this stage of the investigation and Lucy-Ann Walker may have been killed over her habit.

"What’s your poison, Sam?" Jason continues with the drug related lead.

"Heroin and sometimes cocaine,   
speedballs sometimes.”

"That’s some substance use, kid" Patterson cuts in with a frown, his bass tone probably booming in the tape recorder.

"I got issues" Tulley replies defensively as his hands tremor, whether from the come down from the drugs or something else.

"So does everyone. What did Lucy-Ann take, Sam? Where did she live?" Jason probes further.

"Jesus, that girl took anything on offer. Didn’t matter what it was as long as it got her wasted. I sometimes stayed with her, an old boarding house on Westminster. It was a squat, really"

"We’ve received information that she was workin as a prostitute. Is that true?" He continues.

"Sometimes she did when her folks wouldn’t give her money. She used to go up and down Garde and St Louis street, mostly guys with cars"

"Was she in a relationship that you know of, Sam?"

"Yeah" He answers quietly and starts to fidget, which the two officers notice."She was with that Victor Hermandez. The Puerto Rican guy."

"How long had she been with him?" Patterson asks as he leans forward on his elbows.

"Three or four years. They weren’t like normal couples. He was her pimp, really. He didn’t deserve her"

Jason instantly picks up on Tulley’s comment and figures he was more than just a friend to Lucy-Ann, even if the feelings weren’t mutual.

"Any issues that you know of between them?" Jason asks.

"Yeah. He liked his right fist a lot. There was always a new bruise every time I saw her. She used to say she walked into a door, but I knew it was Victor’s fist. He’s got a bad temper and took it out on her. One time I found her crying and Victor had really gone to town on her. I tried to get her to leave him, but she was scared. He made all these threats of what he would do if she told anyone or left and I think she tried to ask her parent’s for help, but they weren’t interested."

Jason makes a note of everything discussed and thanks Sam Tulley for his time. Of course, the young man wanted something out of the little chat and Jason agreed that he would talk to the DA’s office about reduced charged, if and only if his information was useful.

"Where did Lucy-Ann stay?"

"Broad-wick Heights. The old boarding house that got all fixed up for the lower level of society. Place is a dump, but I guess she could lock her door and had a roof over her head." Tulley answers and then he’s led back to his cell.

****

Casey Shraeger isn’t at all surprised to find Jason already at his desk, drinking what is probably his umpteenth cup of coffee with his eyes fixed to the computer screen and bundles of papers and files laid out in front of him. As she removes her coat, she brews up a fresh pot of coffee and realises that he’s been there for a while.

"Got somethin good there, Walsh?" She asks with a pleasant tone.

"Sam Tulley got brought in last night, claiming he had info on Lucy-Ann Walker, so I took a stab at it."

"And?" She asks with impatience as she refills his cup with more coffee.

"Well, her dealer is a guy called Marshall Gordon. I’ve pulled his file, but I need to speak to vice to see if he’s in the frame for anything. He’s got two possession charges, GTA and a dealing charge."

"Once we know what’s what with vice we can go pay him a nice visit" Casey says seriously."I bet we will make his day a whole lot better. What about boyfriends or male friends?"

"According to Tulley, she was with a guy called Victor Hermandez." He answers with a yawn."Was handy with his fists too."

Casey sits down at her desk across from him and sips at her coffee.

"I’m betting he has a nice record"

"Got it one" Jason says with a chuckle."Mostly stupid stuff from his younger years, but his latest charges are pretty interesting"

"Are you going to tell me or are you going to keep me in suspense?"

"Cool your jets, Shraeger" He responds with a hearty chuckle and looks to the computer screen."Hermendez was wanted for questioning in a series of house burglaries in some pretty well to do areas, but they never caught him. Up until two months ago. He was caught red handed with a big bag of goodies at the Walker’s home"

"You’re serious?"

"Like a fucking terminal illness" He replies with a straight face.

"So, what happened?"

"The charges were dropped the week before it was due to go to trial. It was literally swept under the carpet and he was released without any issue." He says and takes a sip of the scolding hot coffee."What I’m wondering is why the Walker’s dropped the charges"

"They could have wanted to avoid a scandal or that they knew Lucy-Ann was involved with him. Both are possibilities." Casey muses.

"In this city, nothing surprises me anymore. Finish your coffee and meet me downstairs. I think we need to talk to the Walkers again and the boyfriend. We can get Gordon picked up once vice call"

***

Casey meets Jason in the car pool and slides into the passenger seat, glad to have been relived of driving duty.

"What about an address for her?" She asks curiously.

"That’s our first stop before we talk to mommy and daddy dearest"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback, anyone?

Broad-wick Heights is located in one of the most poverty stricken neighbourhoods of the city, where the crime rates are high and gang associated violence quite literally stalk the streets. The old boarding house, at first was built when a surge of immigrants sailed into the harbour and for years, the property played host to people who couldn’t afford to stay anywhere else. 

The two detectives make their way inside the building and press the buzzer on the door that reads “management”

They look around the corridor, taking in the hallway that’s in some serious need of a lick of paint, a new carpet and probably some air freshener, but that’s asking too much. The occupant of apartment one opens the door, an overweight guy in his forties who is wearing a very attractive stained vest and stained brown pants.

"What?" He barks, looking through the prescription glasses that are thick and held together by some tape. Clearly a pair of old Welfare issue glasses.

"Mister….?" Casey asks as she flashes her shield.

"Imrie. Claude Imrie. What can I do for you, detectives?" He asks as he pushes the glasses back up onto his nose.

"We need to see an apartment. I’m afraid that one of the guests has been involved in a serious incident and we need to see the apartment" Casey explains and she can tell instantly what Claude Imrie’s next words are going to be."And we have a warrant"

Jason tries not to wrinkle his nose too much at the fierce smell of body odour and grease that flows out into the hallway and he tries to ignore the offending smell.

"You got a key?" Jason asks."A spare?"

"I got one right here. Who you looking for?" Imrie folds his hairy arms across his broad chest and looks between the two visitors.

"Lucy-Ann Walker" She answers.

"That whore?" Imrie let’s out a hearty chuckle."What did she do?"

"We can’t discuss that Mr Imrie, but we would like you to find that key for her apartment. What do you know about her?" Casey tries a different avenue and by all accounts, Claude Imrie gives his opinion of the young woman.

"If it was up to me she would be out on the street. Doing all that stuff with strangers behind her boyfriend’s back, shooting up all the damn time and not knowing what day it was." He continues to rant."Was collecting the trash bags one day for the garbage and I pick up the bags from her door and out come a few needles, all used. That girl should come with her own health warning"

They are quickly getting the picture and preparing themselves to what could possibly await them behind the apartment door.

"What was she like as a tenant?" Jason interrupts casually."Did she have any problems with anyone? Anyone show up who wasn’t supposed to be there? That kind of thing"

"People say different things. People didn’t like her ‘cause of what she did, but that was mostly the wives who thought she was going to steal their husbands" Imrie shakes his head."Kept herself quiet. Was like she was never there."

"Well, thanks for your time and we’ll return the key when we’re done" Casey smiles politely.

Claude Imrie disappears into his apartment and comes to the door a few minutes later with a brass key, the apartment number handwritten in permanent marker. He looks happier at being left alone until the two detectives are done and the odour coming from his living space continues to seep into the walls and carpets.

Each floor of the boarding house is just simply worse than the last; threadbare carpets and stains galore. The walls are covered in decaying wallpaper and mould grows around the air vents. Both Casey and Jason can feel their skin crawling as they climb the stairs and they stand with bated breath as the key fits into the lock. The apartment is no more than a bedsit with an open plan kitchen and living quarters, a fold down bed that’s attached to the wall and a small bathroom. There are no carpets, just floorboards and the odd scattering of discarded magazines and take-out containers. The bed is unmade with a mismatch of thrift store bedclothes and the curtains are dark and heavy, like the blackout curtains that were used in the second world war. The air is stale and faintly smells of scorched….something.

"God, this place is a mess!" Casey says suddenly as she pulls on a pair of latex gloves and opens the refrigerator."No groceries. I don’t think she was staying here"

"Even if she was I don’t think eating was her main priority." Jason explains. "There’s a lot of drug paraphanalia around here."

"That doesn’t surprise me, Walsh."

For the next forty minutes the sweep through the apartment that in their opinion, was inhabitable and collected as much information as they could. By luck, the found some bank account statements and a cellphone in the top drawer in the kitchen. In normal circumstances, they would be working out whether a struggle had taken place or not, but that was hard to tell. 

"Casey, come look at this" Jason yells from the small bathroom and he can tell instantly that the shower hasn’t been used recently, but he does spot the shower gel for men on the sink and the other toothbrush. 

"What’s up?"

He opens the mirror cabinet that is lined around the edges with snapshots of Lucy-Ann and a male, some more intimate than others. But what grabbed his attention was the extensive collection of prescription drugs and by the name on the bottles, they didn’t belong to Lucy-Ann Walker.

"It’s like a pharmacy in there" Casey agrees and shakes her head and peels off a picture from the front."I’m assuming this is our guy, Victor Hermandez?"

"Got it in one. But I think the V on his neck gives it away"

"How do you want to play this?" She asks curiously as she takes a note off every substance in the pill bottles, the names and dates of birth on the label.

"I think we need to find our guy Victor and then talk to the parents. It’s worth a shot, right?"

*****  
One of the control room operators manage to trace a last known address for Victor Hermandez, however the two detective’s weren’t entirely sure how the man would react to their visit and especially, their questions. Hermandez lives in a run down apartment complex that is reasonably cheap if you don’t mind the nearby hustle and bustle from a nearby main street of bars and nightclubs, ideal for any young man who is so inclined to get wasted and see what local talent there is, whether a one-night stand or a blossoming romance.

Jason thumps his fist against the door and rings the doorbell, trying to listen to any movement behind the red painted door that is flaking with age. He shakes his head and continues ringing the doorbell.

"He’s not in, sweetie" An older female voice says from the apartment next door.

"Do you know where he is and when he will be back?" He answers with a question and smiles softly at the old woman who is using a walking frame to keep her upright.

"He leaves at five-thirty every morning for work and back here by twelve and gone by one. Goes over to visit his Grandma in the St Luke’s memorial hospital.” She answers, a hint of sadness in her voice.”Such a nice young man. Fixed up a lot of the odd jobs the landlord wouldn’t spend money on. A damn crook is what he is”

Jason smiles and decides the old woman who is probably in her seventies is an old battleaxe, but she has her wits about her and that’s what she needs.

"Any idea when he’ll come back?" Casey adds."We really need to speak with him"

"He won’t be back for a while yet. Won’t be back until about ten or eleven, just depends. Sometimes he stays over at the hospital."

"Is there a reason why he spends so much time there?" Jason asks.

"His grandma has terminal cancer. Got diagnosed six months ago and she’s still fighting for one more day" The woman says sadly."Poor woman."

 

The drive to St Luke’s had been painstakingly slow thanks to a traffic jam and a collision that involved three vehicles, one a suspected drunk driver who had walked away from the incident without so much as a scratch. The other two remained in an unknown status. They walk down the hospital corridors after spending fifteen minutes looking for a parking space, finally entering the cancer ward. 

Both Jason and Casey remained quiet as they passed the various wards and private rooms, praying and thanking the power’s that be that they had never had to endure such heartache. They speak to a nurse who directs them to the room where Victor Hermandez’s grandmother is staying and Victor is sitting by her bedside, reading to her. 

"Victor Hermandez?" Casey asks and flashes her badge."I’m afraid we need to borrow you for a few minutes."

As if weighing up his options, he nods and folds the corner of the page. The frail old lady who pulls off a colourful head scarf perfectly, grabs hold of her grandson’s hand.

"You aren’t in trouble again?" Her voice is worn and croaky, her breathing shallow as she inhales deeply through the oxygen mask.

"No, abuela. Just helping them with something." He says and kisses her forehead."I’ll be right back"

Victor Hermandez is a big guy, big enough to be a football player and he follows them out into the small relatives room down the hallway, grabbing a cup of coffee from the machine.

"What’s this about?" He asks curiously, sitting down on the green leather sofa.

"This is about your girlfriend, Lucy-Ann Walker-" Casey begins and is immediately cut off.

"Ex" Victor sips at his coffee."Ex girlfriend. What’s she done this time?"

"She was found murdered, Victor and we’re trying to establish where she was and who she was with. If anyone knows anything relating to her death" She explains rationally and avoids accusing him.

"You’re serious? She can’t be dead. Who would want to do that?"

"That’s what we’re trying to find out" Jason cuts in and sits across from the big Spanish guy."When was the last time you saw her?"

Victor falls silent as he tries to piece together the jigsaw of his last visual and physical contact with his ex-girl friend. 

"About….two…maybe three weeks ago. Could be longer"

"Why did you break up and who ended it with who?" Jason continues to probe gently.

"She took a hissy fit cause I’m here with my abuela. She didn’t like that. Got jealous. I wasn’t happy, so I ended it."

"Do you know if there was anything troubling her at all?" Casey asks softly.

"She wouldn’t tell me if there was. I tried to help her, but she never let me. I gave up."

"Were you aware that Lucy-Ann was a user?" She asks and takes notes of their conversation.

“She was always getting high. It cost too much and she want me to pay for it. I have medical bills to pay.”

Between them, Jason and Casey unearthed that Lucy-Ann had been in debt to someone, but Victor didn’t know who. She had asked him before to help raise the money or acquire it, but he claimed he was on the straight and narrow. Victor also divulged to the two officers that she begged to her parents all the time, even begged on the streets when times were tough and he simply had enough of it, having all his help thrown back in his face. In the short time they had also established his movements and would confirm it with one of the nurses and CCTV of his apartment complex.

"Maybe you could help us with something…."Jason flicks through his notepad."In her bathroom there was a lot of prescription pills belonging to different people. What can you tell us about that?"

Victor huffs and shakes his head, his brown eyes tired and the stubble on his face probably overgrown.

"I hadn’t been to hers in over four months. My abuela got sick and I take care of her. She’s a sick lady"

"Again, we’re sorry for pulling you away from her" Casey offers with a soft, genuine smile. She can tell that he’s being genuine and cares for his grandmother a lot.

"It’s okay." He answers."Her sickness makes you think about life and how short it is. I work a job seven days a week and looking for second. I owe her. She raised me"

"Victor, there’s something else we need to ask and it’s about a prior that you were arrested for." Jason says seriously, cutting down to business."Robbing the Walker house"

"I no steal from Lucy-Ann’s parents" Victor says with a shake of the head."She told me they had thrown her out and she wanted her things. She sends me into get them and they say I was stealing. I tried to explain, but no one would let me"

"Was that why the charges were dropped?" Casey asks.

"I don’t know. I never got told. Lucy-Ann just say she had fixed it and that was it."

***

"So, do you buy his story?" Jason asks as he slides into the drivers seat, a little more confused than he was two hours ago.

"Actually, I do. He’s genuine."

"I think we need to pay a visit to the Walker’s and chase up vice on Gordon." Jason scopes their actions out as he leaves the hospital car park, a shiver burning up his spine. 

"Sounds like a good place to start"


	5. Chapter 5

It quickly became apparent that the two detective’s were not welcome in the Walker household, possibly fuelled by grief or something else entirely. After only asking a few questions about Lucy-Ann and her relationship with Victor Hermandez, gently probing into his recent arrest in the Walker’s home, they were asked to leave abruptly and told not to contact them again unless it was through their lawyer. The two detectives left and put their heads together as they made the journey back to the precinct, unsure of which avenue to go down next. They have no leads and are past the point of exhaustion, deciding to call it a day and regroup their efforts in the morning, hopefully feeling fresher than they do presently.

Jason glances around his cramped, but comfortable apartment and decides to enjoy the rest of the evening since the diner is closed up and he’s in at a reasonable time. He uncaps a beer and drains it in three huge gulps, making a sound of satisfaction as he uncaps another and takes a leisurely sip. It feels good to be able to sit down and relax without it being past midnight with a pile of dishes in the sink. It feels good to be able to enjoy some time to himself without any distractions. Jason showers and pulls on a pair on some old, very comfortable clothes and settles down in front of the TV, for once content. The insistent knocking from the diner door grabs his attention as he yells that’s he’s coming and he can see who his visitor through the glass door. 

He unlocks it and allows her in.

"Hey, I wondered when I was going to see you" He smiles.

"I’ve been thinking about you all day"

"That’s good" He admits softly, wrapping his arms around the woman."Because I’ve been thinking about you all day. Been driving me crazy"

Their lips meet in a passionate embrace and soon they are walking and kissing their way back into Jason’s apartment, kicking over the door that separates it from the rest of the diner. Jason realises that he’s not going to get much sleep tonight.

****

"What are you looking so smug about?" Casey asks Jason as he helps himself to some freshly brewed coffee.

"Nothing" 

She doesn’t probe any further and takes a sip of her own coffee, focussing back on the computer screen as a green tick over an envelope flashes in the bottom corner. She clicks on the new message and reads it carefully with great interest.

"Got a message from Dr Reynolds. The tox results are back."

"Anything interesting?" Jason asks as he searches through his drawer for a candy bar from his not so secret stash.

"Lucy-Ann Walker was still using at the time of death and the levels of the heroin is quite high. He guesses she was either using very heavily or the drug was pretty potent. Either is a possibility. Anything from vice?"

"The investigating officer is out on a big bust, but his second in command is going to get him to call me as soon as. We know who her dealer was, but if we spook him and he is under vice’s watchful eye it could blow the whole thing" Jason rationalise’s.  

"That’s the last thing we need is the Captain breathing down our necks because we didn’t go by the book"

"Do you even know what that is?" He teases and adds."I meant going   
by the book”

"I always go by the book, Walsh and you know it"

 

At around lunch time, Jason’s diminishing patience was finally rewarded by a phone call from Bob Seller, the vice unit’s commanding officer. The seasoned officer had already gathered as much information as he could about Marshall Gordon and confirmed that he wasn’t on the departments radar, but would be now. During the phone call conversation, Casey had managed to locate an address for Gordon and very quickly they were on their way to pay a visit to the dealer.

Surprisingly, Marshall Gordon still lived with his mother at the age of twenty-nine and had been in and out of prison since his late teens, mostly for possession charges. It seemed that he had stepped up the social ladder by being a dealer, which he was always suspected of but no one could prove.

Casey thumps her fist against the screen door and waits patiently for someone to answer, finally seeing Caroline Gordon emerge.

The morbidly obese woman waddles her way up the hallway and pushes open the screen door, the main door held back by a garden ornament.

"Mrs Gordon?" Jason goes on to announce himself and Casey, showing their badges."We need to speak to Marshall."

"He’s not in" She says with a click of her tongue.

"That’s not true, Mrs Gordon." Casey says assertively."He’s right there in the front room playing the play station."

Wrinking her nose in disgust at the intrusion, the protective mother leads them inside and the two detectives wish that they didn’t have to venture into the woman’s home. 

The house is filthy and cluttered, disgusting with dirt and grime. Body odour and grease hangs in the air and Jason wants to scrub himself raw with bleach as he glances at the pictures in the hallway of the African-American family, spruced up and clean for family photo day.

Caroline Gordon throws herself onto the sofa and the springs and wood creaks below her weight. Marshall, on the other hand doesn’t pay any attention to them and continues playing his game. 

"Marshall, we need a word" Casey says politely and is answered with silence. She tries again and hopes she can get his attention without having to throw something at his head.

Losing his patience, Jason steps over the stack of fallen magazines and newspapers and switches off the TV, this earning a reaction.

"What the fuck!" Marshall spits angrily."Dude!"

"Don’t dude me" Jason answers and folds his arms across his chest. "We need to talk and we can either do it here or outside. Whatever you prefer."

"What’s it about?" The young man asks defiantly and looks the two officers up and down.

"Lucy-Ann Walker" Casey says evenly."We know all about how you knew her, so we can do this here and get it over with or outside."

"Marshall?" Caroline asks with worry.

"Outside" Marshall decides and Jason automatically grabs hold of his arm to stop him from running."What about her?"

"You were her dealer" Casey continues."When did you last see her?"

"I ain’t her dealer, man" Marshall answers.

"So, if we searched you we wouldn’t find narcotics, right?" Jason says with an air of authority, glancing over his shoulder."If you have anything on you we’ll need to search the entire house and I’m sure your mom’s upset enough"

"Fuck you!" Marshall spits viciously and tries to pull out of Jason’s grip."My momma don’t need involved in this shit"

"Then tell us what we need to know" Casey says as her patience hits a new level.

"Alright." He groans and Jason winks at Casey, almost grinning."I saw her about a week ago. She called me up and asked if I had any TNT. Told her I was out"

"Then what?" Casey pressures.

"She said she would take anything I   
go, so I met her at the kid’s play park on Marcella.”

"And?" Jason continues to push him.

"She didn’t want what I had, so she said she would take her business elsewhere." Marshall   
explains.”Looked bad, too. Kept bitching about how everyone left her, but the TNT was for life.”

Casey quickly reveals that Lucy-Ann Walker was murdered and the young man genuinely looked stunned, but it was perhaps down that she spent a fortune on everything he sold. More questions followed; where he was the night and morning Lucy-Ann was killed and he gave them a list of names of who he was with and even told them the pool hall they frequented that night. Of course, they would check out his story, but they knew he wasn’t her killer. Even after they discovered that she owed Marshall Gordon almost eight thousand dollars in drug money, but still he wasn’t the killer.

It’s almost ten at night and both Jason and Casey are hunched over the post-mortem report, trying to get a clearer picture of why Lucy-Ann Walker was killed. What made it strange was the ritualistic properties and of course the crucifix that was carved into the back of her neck, which Dr Ramsey believes was made by a scalpel. As Jason refills their coffee cups and grabs another slice of cold pizza, Casey’s desk phone rings and he wanders around the open-plan office space to give her a moment of privacy. They should both be home, asleep and comfortable, but instead they are holed up in the office trying to work a homicide that no one has any information.

"Jason?" Casey says quickly, putting down the phone and grabbing her gun from the drawer. "We’ve got another body"


	6. Chapter 6

The football field at St Bernard's high school is swarming with authorities; police, paramedics and fire fighters and of course curious spectators. Casey and Jason were given the basics of how the body was found and what awaited them at the scene, but the information couldn't prepare them for what they saw when they arrived. A home-made wooden crucifix is erected in the middle of the field, surrounded by lit candles and it's purpose had worked because it had attracted people's attention, thus discovering the body. Attached to the cross is the body of a young man with nails hammered through his wrists and feet, cable ties tightened around his biceps and thighs, an aid to support the body from simply falling. The grass beneath the cross is stained red with blood, the forensic photographer snapping anything of interest with his camera.

"Jesus" Jason breathes out a shaky breath. He is truly horrified by the grotesque scene in front of him.

Casey comes up behind him after talking to the responding officers and hands her colleague a drivers licence in an evidence bag.

"Kid's name is Ryan Daily, nineteen years old." She says as she feels her stomach churn."The ME and forensic unit are on their way."

"Sure it's the same kid?"

"The license was left just below his feet" She answers."The killer wanted us to know who he is."

Jason runs his fingers through his hair and he knows by the amount of blood beneath the body, that Ryan Daily was alive when he was literally nailed to the cross.

"Does his parents know?" He asks quietly, knowing that it's every parent's worst nightmare to open their door and see cops standing there with sorrowful expressions.

"They're being notified. Jason, I think it's the same guy. Both homicides are religiously themed, but why?"

"Could be anything." He answers as a woman starts screaming amongst the group of spectators.

The woman is hysterical and is spoken to by one of the officers who are standing guard and the she is allowed through and escorted over to the two detectives.

"She says she's the victim's girlfriend" the officer explains and holds the woman up by the elbow.

"Do you know the victim?" Casey asks and she can't help but remain sceptical.

It hadn't been the first time someone had insisted they were a connection to the deceased and in truth, they were simply curious and wanted a closer look.

"Ryan" the girl stammers."Ryan Daily. He was supposed to meet me."

"What's you name, sweetheart?" Jason asks softly and they lead the young woman over to a parked patrol car.

"Rebecca. Rebecca McAllister." She says."He was supposed to meet me!"

"Where was he supposed to meet you, Rebecca?" Casey probes gently as she offers a tissue from her pocket.

"We were supposed to be meeting up to see that new horror that's just came out. He sent me a text message around six to say I was to meet him later because he didn't get off work until seven and he didn't want me hanging around" Rebecca explains in-between sobs."I told him that was fine and then at eight, he sent me a text saying he was going to be late because he had to speak to the coach of his team. They play on this field and train here. I got bored waiting and then saw all the commotion on facebook and I came over."

"Rebecca, did you physically speak to Ryan any time today?" Jason asks as his mind jumps from assumption to assumption. He's got a gut feeling that it wasn't Ryan who was sending those messages.

"No....He usually calls me, but I just thought he was busy."

"Where does he work?" Casey continues."Is he still in school?"

"We both are. Right here at St Bernard's. Oh yeah, he works at a fast food place. Ricky D's, I think it's called-"

"It used to be the old little chef" Jason says and tells a passing uniformed officer to get everyone down here as soon as possible.

"Yeah, that's right." Rebecca agrees and wipes her nose, the trails of black and watery mascara running down her cheeks. "I think I'm going to be sick"

 

In the small hours of the morning, Jason had refused to go home until he found out as much as he could about nineteen year old Ryan Daily. He had no criminal record and wasn't even flagged up in any system, quite literally clean as a whistle. After vomiting, Rebecca McAllister had managed to give them a detailed statement, insisting on doing anything she could to help as she wailed hysterically. Her loss and grief were real and she didn't know anyone who would want to hurt her boyfriend and hadn't known him to upset anyone in their three month relationship. Still, if Ryan had upset someone he wasn't going to tell his girlfriend. At somewhere around five-thirty in the morning, Jason had wandered into the lavish and very comfortable interview suite and fell asleep on the couch, only to be woken up by Casey.

"Good morning" She says brightly and hands him a cup of very strong black coffee."You've been here all night?"

"Yeah. I tried to find out as much as I could, but Ryan Daily is as clean as a whistle. I sent emails to his school, setting up a meeting to talk to the principle and the students. But they haven't gotten back to me yet"

"Jason" She says softly. "It's seven in the morning. How long have you been asleep?"

"Maybe an hour and a half."

"I think you should go home and get some sleep. I can handle things here for a while and the captain won't mind as long as you come back, on the ball" She tries her best to convince him to go home and rest, to sleep and shower, maybe have a bite to eat and then come back later.

"I'm fine"

"Yeah, you really look fine" She answers sarcastically and shakes her head."You're going home and that's it. You've set everything up for this morning, so let me do it and you can go home."

Deciding not to argue, he reluctantly agrees and heads for home as Casey makes a few phone calls and sets up a meeting with the principle for that afternoon. She quickly sends a text to Jason and she hopes he's taken her advice and not opened that damned diner.

 

Ryan Daily's parents had been expecting their son home when two police officers showed up at their door and there, they were told of the devastating news of their son's death and of course, they were given the basic's that their son had been the victim of a very brutal homicide. Their lives would never be the same again.

***  
Principle Ian Watkins sits behind a very organised antique desk, his office decorated with certificates and state awards for the best school, among other memorabilia from his predecessors like news clippings. The office smells surprisingly fresh even though two walls are covered from floor to ceiling with old books, manuscripts and texts that are dust free.

"Good afternoon, detectives."Watkins beams and extends his hands to both of them."Please make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you tea or coffee?"

"No, thank you, Mr Watkins" Casey replies as she and Jason take the two seats in front of the desk.

She takes in his appearance, the starched shirt and polished shoes and the way his three piece suit sits perfectly on his frame, just like his haircut. She surmises that he doesn't know what an honest day's work involves and was born, like her with a silver spoon in his mouth, except she doesn't use her connections to get what she wants.

"My secretary made me aware of the situation in which you wish to discuss." He says in a serious tone, his bushy eyebrows furrowing together."I still can't believe it."

"What do you know about Ryan Daily, Mr Watkins?" Jason asks as he removes his notebook and balances it on his knee."What kind of student was he?"

"Brilliant. Ryan was a truly brilliant student. His grades were excellent and he did tutoring lessons, I believe." Watkins answers proudly, almost arrogantly."His class teachers would be able to be more specific"

"That's great because we'll need to talk to them and the other students in his classes. And anyone else he associated with." Jason answers and circles the word, tutoring in his notebook.

Already, Jason is starting to wonder why someone would kill a nineteen year old student who was rumoured to be so brilliant. He wonders if it's jealousy or that he had some kind of disagreement with another student. And it's possible someone he was tutoring in his spare time hadn't gotten the grades they hoped for and took it out on Ryan. But logic springs back like a bullet; this murder is too similar to that of Lucy-Ann Walker and too ugly to be the work of some pissed off student.

"I can arrange all of that, detective." Watkins confirms the request eagerly."I can't imagine what his family are going through."

"Let me ask you something, Mr Watkins" Jason glances around the room."This is a private school, how did Ryan Daily get accepted here with the fees? His parent's aren't loaded"

"Ryan was accepted through a scholarship. He had overwhelming potential in some very serious subjects, such as politics and history, sociology and psychology." Suddenly, Watkins laughs quietly to himself."I'm sorry. I remember having a conversation with Ryan several months ago and how adamant he was that the school needed to break away from the social great wall of China. He believed that every US student should have the right to a good education, no matter their background or social class. He made a very convincing argument and wanted me to approach the school board, but I never got the chance to tell him that his request had been accepted"

Principle Watkins had handed a print-out of Ryan Daily's timetable, complete with a class registers for every class and who the teacher was. All of Ryan's teachers agreed that Ryan was a very accomplished young man, with his head screwed on right and had a passion for learning. However, none of them could tell Jason or Casey anything other than how brilliant the teenager was, that is until they started talking to Ryan's classmates.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback?

If the rumours that Jason and Casey were told were true, they had at least a possible motive in the homicide of Ryan Daily. But they had no suspects. According to at least three dozen students, Ryan obtained the answers to various tests and assessments, copied them and sold them to his classmates. If a student didn’t do as well as they hoped in their final exams, they could submit their portfolio of class work as evidence to show that they know the answers. Both detectives had been horrified when one student said he had a friend who bought the answers of an upcoming biology exam for three hundred dollars and according to the same students, Ryan Daily had been involved in this little project since he arrived. Which meant, he had taken over for someone who had possibly left the school for whatever reason, whether it was due to some sort of expulsion or the fact that the school years had come to an end. Either way, the investigating officers were going to find out. It would take a while to go through all of the statements and pick them apart, but after a gruelling five and a half hours at St Bernard’s, Jason and Casey retreat to the diner at the end of their shift for a strong cup of coffee.

"The kid’s got a cross on the back of his neck just like Lucy-Ann Walker"

"Looks like we’ve got the same killer" Jason says with a sigh and curses under his breath."Jesus."

"I just don’t get the connection. Lucy-Ann was an addict and a prostitute. Ryan Daily was a kid who wanted to better himself."

Jason scratches the back of his head as he refills their coffee cups and leans on the counter. It’s a miserable evening, pouring with rain and the forecast had predicted thunder and lightning.

"Lucy-Ann came from money and tried to leave that part of her life and Ryan Daily didn’t have much, but he was going to a private school and was given better opportunities. Could that be our connection?"

"Who knows, Jason." Casey answers with a sigh and rubs her eyes, very grateful of something to eat.

"Could the killer be on either side of the fence? Had the same chances as Lucy-Ann and lost it and he’s jealous of Ryan Daily?"

"Jason, you’re making my head hurt!" She complains at his brain churning theories.

"Whoever it was, our vic’s had to trust him to some level. Lucy-Ann wouldn’t have met a complete stranger at random unless she was looking to score a few dollars and Ryan Daily was supposed to be meeting his girlfriend, but actually left work when he said he would. It’s just what happened in that small gap of time."

"We’ll need to speak to his parents." She says as she sips the coffee."And search his room."

"Already one step ahead of you, Casey. We’re going over there tomorrow morning and they’re letting us do whatever we need to”

"That’s a relief" She mumbles."Hey, are you feeding me or are you trying to tell me I’m on a diet?"

Jason bursts out laughing and raises his hands in surrender, trying to pretend he’s hurt by her assumption.

"I’m not telling you anything. So, what’s it going to be?"

Casey smirks and picks up the laminated menu, her eyes scanning every item.

"How about a nice big greasy bacon cheeseburger?"

"Coming right up" He laughs and turns to the large fridges, grabbing the ingredients and everything else that he needs.

*****

Roger and Margaret Daily knew their son as a quiet, hard working and an intellectual student who was at the top of his classes. He worked hard in a deli where he was saving up to buy his first car since he had passed his driving test three months ago and doted on his girlfriend, who the Daily’s loved and often had to dinner. However, they were clueless about the rumours that circulated amongst Ryan’s fellow students and it was best left unsaid, until the detectives had evidence to support the gossip. Casey and Jason had agreed that there was no point in causing the Daily’s unneeded heartache as they absorbed the news that their son, the brilliant student had been murdered viciously. No parent wanted to hear or accept that their child had died, whether it was a freak accident or intentional and the Daily’s had been spared the most horrifying details.

Both Casey and Jason pull on latex gloves as they enter Ryan Daily’s bedroom and they are surprised to find everything neat and tidy. The walls are a powder blue with a dark blue carpet, a neatly made double bed in the centre of the wall and bookshelves on either side. The other walls are tastefully decorated with framed posters, football teams that Ryan obviously followed and in the corner next to the walk in wardrobe sits a very organised desk with a computer and a pile of school books. Casey switches on the computer as Jason goes through the bedside cabinet drawers on either side of the bed, pulling out nothing of interest. He then moves onto the drawers underneath the bed and whistles in awe.

"What is it?" Casey asks as she waits for the very dated computer to fire up.

"Got a tupperware box here filled with cash. And a few large envelopes, along with a diary"

She joins Jason at the side of the bed as she opens the unsealed envelope and gasps, quite surprised.

"These are test papers."

"Looks like the rumours were true." Jason says, amazed himself."Look at the date on them, they aren’t due to be taken until next month"

"What’s in the diary?"

"Lists of names with subjects, dates of exams and how much it’s costing them. So far he’s racking up a nice little earner" He answers and tries to look for some sort of answer as to how Ryan Daily is getting hold of the classified materials.

Casey returns to the now loaded computer and opens the top drawer, finding a book with Ryan’s email address and password right at the top. She isn’t expecting to find much due to the fact that most people were reasonably clued up on electronic paper trails and forensics, thanks to shows like CSI. Logging in, she notices a lot of spam in the inbox and checks the outbox and finds nothing. Finally, she checks the trash folder and reads through the several dozen emails from the same person.

"Looks like Ryan was getting answer papers from a professor"

"You’re serious?" Jason asks as he moves from the wardrobe to the computer."Which professor?"

"A Graham Mitchell. This is his school email address and there’s details of which papers are needed, how much they are and where they are going to meet up."

"Anything from the date of Ryan’s death?" He asks curiously.

"Nothing. I’m going to give the IT tech’s a call and maybe they can trace older correspondence."

"Okay" He sighs."Let’s do it. And while the tech’s are doing their stuff, we can talk to Professor Mitchell"

****  
Professor Graham Mitchell is a very thin and gangly man with a ring of short dark grey hair with a bald crown. He wears a wrinkled cheap suit with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, an array of pens in his pockets as he looks through his glasses at the detectives in front of him. His office is cupboard like, the shelves cluttered with books and his desk is even worse, two coffee cups sitting amongst piles of papers and small gadgets. The walls are liberally decorated with diagrams and other charts, a cork board that’s splattered with post-it notes and memo’s on scrap pieces of papers.

"What can I do for you?" Graham Mitchell asks as he sits on the edge of his chair.

"We’re here to talk to you about Ryan Daily" Casey answers."Was he one of your students?"

"He was never one of my students, but I had heard that he was quite  
the academic.” Mitchell replies.

"That’s strange because your email address received a lot of correspondence from Ryan." Jason adds with a casual flair.

"What address would this be?" The professor asks, an obvious sign of concern making his eyebrows knit together.

Casey reads out the email address and the professor looks genuinely  
shocked.

“I no longer use that email address and haven’t done for eight months. You see, the address was hacked frequently and I went to the IT department and they set up a new one for me.” Mitchell explains.”I was led to believe the old address was shut down.”

"Is there anyone who can verify this?" Casey asks as she stops taking notes.

"Oh yes, Glen Stirling is the head of the IT department. We did at first try to track who was doing the hacking, but it never came to anything."

"Do you think he’s telling the truth?" Casey asks as they walk down the corridor towards the IT department at the other side of the building.

"He seemed genuine. Honest."

"Let’s talk to this IT guy and then we’ll get our guys to look at the computer." She answers as they continue to walk in silence.

The IT department is much smaller than they were led to believe, four terminals in total and then a master computer in a locked office. The room is empty, the faint whirring of the machines combat’s the electric fan in the corner that is cooling down the room.

Everything is obsessively neat and organised, the monitors switched off while the towers run constantly. A historical looking photocopier sits in-between a row of battered filing cabinets, a bunch of folders in alphabetical order on top.

"Excuse me, but you aren’t supposed to be in here"

Jason and Casey turn around to see an extremely skinny man with greasy side-combed hair and a thin pencil moustache, which matches his checkered shirt and bow-tie beautifully. He looks to be in his thirties and has a crumpled white lab coat over his shirt.  
“Sorry, we’re looking for Glen Stirling” Casey says as she flashes her badge.

"I’m him" the man says."What can I do for you?"

"We were told that Professor Mitchell’s email account was deactivated and it’s come up in a homicide investigation. We’re hoping you can tell us if it’s been reactivated." Jason adds as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"I’ll be able to check that on the system."

They watch Glen Stirling as his fingers dance over the keys of a computer and he gasps.

"It’s been reactivated from an outside source!" He exclaims.

"When was this?" Jason asks curiously from over the slender man’s shoulder.

"Five months ago. This….it can’t be possible." Stirling answers."We do an encryption block to stop all old students or teachers from accessing their accounts once they’ve left. If an account is hacked, we follow the same policy."

"Is there anyone who would know how to override the program?" Casey asks, hopeful for a possible lead.

"No." Stirling replies honestly, his eyes absorbing the details on the screen."It’s built for that purpose"


	8. Chapter 8

It had been three weeks since the brutal homicides of Lucy-Ann Walker and Ryan Daily and still the authorities were no closer to fingering a possible suspect or a perpetrator. Things had been quiet since the two close together killings and as the labs processed the evidence, the detectives investigating the deaths were at a loss. Jason and Casey had spent many sleepless nights together in the precinct, hunched over the case files like predators waiting to pounce and no matter how hard they tried to figure out the why and who, they were left without answers every time. Frustration kills them mentally and physically, every piece of evidence scrutinised along with every detail and still they were coming up with nothing.

The coffee tastes bitter and burnt, like it’s been stewing for hours on end in the pot and it’s only bonus is that it’s hot and wet and caffeine. Jason rubs his tired eyes and takes another gulp of coffee, trying to keep himself awake so he can do as much research as he can. He hasn’t slept in five days, between working during the day and opening the diner at night and he’s exhausted. Mentally and physically drained as he turns his attention back to the computer screen.

He enters the search on the VICAP program, looking for any similar cases that relate to the homicides he’s investigating. The program is a catalogue of closed and active cases, ranging from serious crimes such as homicides, suspicious deaths, sexual assaults and rapes. It’s an officer’s paradise, but the search turns up hundreds, if not thousands of results. Some of the cases have religious themes, others have what weapon was involved and other details that may be relevant or not. He has to go through each case and make comparisons, which is going to lose him precious time, but there may be a chance that the killer has struck before elsewhere and is on the system of unsolved crimes. Anything is possible.

The hustle and bustle of his colleague arriving makes Jason’s head pound harder, the increase in noise only adding to his frustrations.  
They talk loudly and laugh before settling into the desks and Jason isn’t at all surprised to hear Casey grumble about someone using up the last of the coffee.

"This place is like a zoo!" She sets as she takes her seat at her desk across from Jason.

He doesn’t say anything as he continues to read the files and he’s been in the office since twenty past three, not even bothering to get some rest. This cause is driving him crazy. Two homicides that are linked, but he doesn’t know how and any time he tries to sleep, a new theory pops into his head.

"You look like shit"

"Why thank you" He answers sarcastically, trying to discreetly keep his eyes open as he gulps down the rest of the lukewarm coffee.

"Have you even slept?"

"Not much." He replies and feels his headache worsening the longer he studies the information on the screen.

Casey studies him, the dark circles under his eyes and the week old stubble that is peppering his face, along with the loose tie and creased shirt. She knows he’s driving himself into the ground.

"I bet you opened the diner again, didn’t you?" She asks and she already knows the answer.

"Yeah, have to keep busy"

"What you need is to rest. You haven’t had a day off in three weeks." She continues."You’re going to kill yourself with exhaustion."

"I’m fine"

"You’re not fine, Jason" she says more firmly and leans over the desk."You’re struggling to keep your eyes open. You either go home or I’ll go to McGill"

"I don’t need to go home"

Casey had acted on her threat of going to Captain Roy McGill and he was just as concerned as she was. He sent Jason home on official leave for three days so he could get some rest, eat a decent meal and shower and shave, with the reminder that he wasn’t any use to the team if he could barely function.

Jason considers opening the diner for a few hours, but he decides against it when he almost fell asleep in the back of a cab. Casey had taken his car key so he couldn’t drive, well aware of the risks with exhausted drivers and especially in the busy streets of New York. Grumbling as he locks the door to the diner, he makes his way into the apartment he lives in and strips down to his boxers, sliding into bed and under the covers. As soon as his head hits the pillows, he’s asleep.

 

The problem with technology is that it can takes hours, weeks and months to figure it out, as Casey is learning. She taps her foot impatiently as she listens to the technician on the other end of the phone. He’s talking in geek-talk, a technical language of computers that she has no idea what it means.

"Okay, can you give me in layman’s terms, please?" She knows she’s sounding very impatient.

"What I’m trying to explain is that the account was reactivated from outside the campus. It could be anywhere and to override the encryption, it would take a genius."

"Is there any way of telling where the emails were sent from?" She asks and she really isn’t sure whether she wants to hear the answer.

"Yes. I have a print out here and I’ll fax you the locations co-ordinates. Every email was sent from a series of location that has free Wi-fi servers. Untraceable unless you have what was used to send them. These days you can send them through cell phones, laptops, computers and tablets. I hope this helps."

"It does. Thank you" She hangs up and mutters under her breath."Know it all"

There’s a very big reason why Casey Shraeger hates technology.

 

*****LATER THAT EVENING****

The charred remains of two people lay side by side on gurney’s in the autopsy suite, the pungent and overwhelming odour of burnt flesh and hair overpowering the chemical smells that are always there, even overpowering the odour of death itself. Dr Reynolds hands Jason and Casey face masks as they unhappily move in the matching disposable forensic suits and safety gear.

Jason had been asleep when Casey called him about the latest developments and he insisted he meet her at the crime scene and for once she didn’t argue. Already there, she had lost the contents of her stomach several times over by the time he got there. The whole area was buzzing with the various authorities, fire and rescue, police and paramedics. The scene had been gruesome and it would stay with Casey for a long time. Two corpses were tied to a metal pole that had been dug into the earth, the two persons surrounded by wood and flammable materials and set alight, perishing. A few meters away from the fire, a wooden cross with two pictures of the victims was left for them to be identified, along with their drivers licences. But what made that unpleasant fear grow was the two pictures of the victim’s necks, crosses cut into the flesh just like the others.

"As you may have guessed, the causes of death in both cases were due to two things. Death by fire trauma and possibly smoke inhalation." Dr Reynolds says through the face mask as he reads from his clipboard of notes."I say possibly because the internal organs are as good as dust. Ash, as it were."

"What can you tell us about the fire?" Jason asks.

"There was a lot of flammable materials mixed up in the wood and my guess would be that it was some form of gasoline that was the accelerate. It burned hot and fast."

"Would there be any chance of survival if they had been found sooner?" Casey asks and she knows by Dr Reynolds grim expression, even behind the mask that they wouldn’t have survived.

"There would have been very little chance of them making it to the hospital" He answers."The body would have gone into shock and the organs would have shut down. The agony from the burns would have been horrendous and to survive that, well it would be unbearable."

***

"He’s escalating" Jason says as they reach the safety of the car."Nothing for six weeks and then two in one night."

"It’s like he’s reminding us that he’s still out there. Uniform are going over to contact the next of kin once we have confirmed identities and we have a pow-wow with McGill at nine-thirty. So, go home and get some sleep”

"Casey" he answers seriously."It’s almost two in the morning. After seeing that, there’s no way I can sleep."

"Me neither"


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn't unusual for Captain McGill to get involved in active cases, especially when the local media had been writing half-truths and stirring panic in the community. He studies the recent crime scene photographs with a grimace, bile rising in his throat as he tears his eyes away from the corpses. His bushy grey eyebrows furrow in concentration and sadness as he looks between the two detectives.

"What do we know about them?" He asks with a sigh.

"We don't know much" Jason admits."We don't know whether the victims were friends, colleagues, associates or complete strangers. Patrol has notified the next of kin for Angela Parker and Greg Thompson's parents in Toronto are being spoken to any time soon"

Dr Reynolds had cross referenced the drivers licences with their dental records and phoned early that morning that they had a definite match. Now they needed to know the connection of the victims.

"Okay, go talk to Angela Parker's husband ASAP and find out if he knew the male victim. The only person that could of told is that is Angela and she's dead. We need a suspect. We need evidence, but our killer is too smart for that. We have four victims and I don't want any more."

*****

Angela Parker and her husband, Matthew live in a modernised Town house in Soho and by first appearances, the property looks more of a show-home than an actual home. All the walls are neutral colours with wooden floors and expensive rugs placed over them. Large, frameless canvases decorate the walls liberally in every room and contemporary art pieces of pottery steal the show in blacks and reds.

The detectives were greeted by Matthew Parker, a reasonably tall and slender man with dark salt and pepper hair. They watch him as he nervously fiddles with the collar of a purple shirt underneath a grey wool sweater, the slacks are black and shoes neatly polished. Silver framed glasses sit on the edge of his nose and he eyes his unannounced guests with scrutiny.

Only last night he had been informed of his wife's death and the news clearly hadn't sunk in yet. Matthew Parker's sister, Gloria is in the kitchen making designer coffee from a machine and they know they need to get down to business.

"Mr Parker, were you expecting Angela home last night?" Casey asks gently, seeing a physical flinch from the husband at the mention of his deceased wife's name.

"She doesn't usually come home when she's been helping at the kitchens." He answers."She doesn't like driving in the dark that late at night, so she usually stays at a friend's place, a friend who volunteers with her."

"And does she usually call you or get in touch?" Casey continues to ask."How often does she volunteer?"

"Three times a week. Sometimes more if someone called in sick or couldn't make it for whatever reason." He replies, his thin lips curling into a frown."Should I have known what happened?"

"What do you mean, Mr Parker?" Jason asks.

"They say a mother will know when their child has died, is it the same for couple's in love?"

"I really don't know." Jason admits."That's something that we can't answer. Mr Parker, how was your wife leading up to her death? Did she seem distracted, different in any way?"

"She was distracted recently. Like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders." Parker answers."She wouldn't tell me what was on her mind and I didn't probe. She's entitled to have her own thoughts."

"Any nuisance phone calls or anything like that?" Jason asks and Parker shakes his head."Did she or you ever feel like you were being followed?"

"No, Detective Walsh. Everything was fine. I had my work and Angela had her work. We were dedicated."

"Mr Parker, I'm afraid you aren't going to like the next few questions, but we really do need to ask them" Casey interrupts and gives Gloria Parker a small smile as a thank you for the coffee.

"Go ahead, detective. You are only doing your job. I understand"

"Were there any marital problems?" She asks."Anything that caused a strain in your relationship"

"We always had our normal disagreements over silly, unimportant things like me moving the jar of tea the wrong way or her vacuuming too many times a day. Really unimportant disagreements"

"Anything else?" Jason asks.

"The other day there we did have a disagreement over some money that had been used from our shared account" Parker answers with a frown."A total of two hundred and eighty dollars. It's a very small amount, but when I pressed her to where it had went she said it was for the kitchens. They rely on donations from charity, old clothes and shoes. She said she had bought some thick blankets and some cheap shoes and sneakers."

"Angela sounds as if she was really into her volunteer work" Jason adds with a pleasant smile, unsure of what he thinks about the money going missing at this time.

"Oh, she most certainly was. She really saw society at it's worst and wanted to help as much as she could." Matthew Parker frowns."I...I just wish we could have had more time. We were trying to adopt, you see. We had been trying since we got married and couldn't conceive. We tried IVF, but that didn't work. Adoption was our last option."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr Parker." Casey says with genuine empathy."The officers who came by last night told you about the other victim she was with. Do you know the name Greg Thompson?"

At that moment, Jason takes out a print-out of the deceased man's drivers licence and hands it to Parker. His watery blue eyes sadly look at the picture and he shakes his head.

"Angela never mentioned a Greg. Do you know why she was with him?"

"At the moment we're still trying to figure that out, Mr Parker" Casey answers."If only our investigations were like how they are on TV"

"I don't want much television, detective. I really don't have the time for it unless there's a movie or some documentary, but that's really it."

"The friend Angela stayed with" Jason interrupts."Do you know her name?"

"Rhiannon Waters ."

****

 

"Miss Waters, Angela was with this man. Do you know if they knew each other?" Jason asks as he hands the copy of the drivers license over for her to look.

Rhiannon Waters mouth turns into some form of disgust, her face turning pale as she silently nods.

"She told me she wasn't seeing him." The woman answers."She told me it was over."

"Are you saying that Greg and Angela were in a relationship?" Casey asks, casting a sideways glance to Jason.

"They've been together for the last two and a half years. Angela told Matthew that she was volunteering at the homeless shelter with me and told him that she was staying over when she was with Greg" Rhiannon explains.

"And he believed her?" Jason asks.

"Matthew didn't have any reason not to."

"Do you know how they met?" Casey continues to probe for information."What did he do?"

"They met at the shelter. Greg wasn't exactly a volunteer, but his business donated money, clothes and food parcels." Rhiannon says, her hands trembling as she dabs her eyes."He owns some distribution centre. All the stuff he donated was stuff that didn't pass quality control, like clothes that had dodgy zippers and tinned foods that had been labelled wrong."

"Was Greg the only contributor to the shelter?" Jason asks.

"Lord, no." Rhiannon laughs to herself, shock running out quickly."A lot of local businesses help; Butchers, thrift stores, supermarkets and even the library donated some books."

"What kind of relationship did they have, Rhiannon?" Jason asks, glancing up at the woman.

"At first, it was just sex and then she said a few months later after meeting him that she loved him. I told her she was playing with fire and they grew more serious." The woman sighs and grabs an unused tissue from the box. "I stay as far away from trouble as I can."

****

Jason and Casey had left Rhiannon Water's apartment with the understanding that Matthew Parker had no link whatsoever to his wife's and her lover's deaths. Rhiannon had testified that Matthew didn't even know about the affair and it was unlikely he would even notice anything amiss with his wife. In conversation, Angela had told her friend that her husband was dead to the world unless it suited him and she finally felt alive with Greg Thompson, but always felt guilty for being unfaithful. On the journey back to the precinct, Casey and Jason go over the information they have so far and they agree that Matthew Parker isn't a viable suspect in Angela and Greg's homicides.


	10. Chapter 10

"Okay, so Angela Parker and Greg Thompson were lovers." Casey begins as she runs down the list in front of her. "Ryan Daily was a kid and Lucy-Ann Walker was a prostitute and addict. What's the connection here?"

Jason rubs his stubbled chin and gazes out of the second storey window as he tries to piece everything together, the connection no further in front of him than it is in front of Casey.

"We know none of them knew or interacted with each other, so their killer has to target them or at least know thedm to mark them like he did."

"We've checked every known associate in the area?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Twice." 

"Damn." Casey hisses with an impatient sigh. "We have four bodies and no idea who the killer is."

"Maybe we need to look into why he killed them in the first place."

"But he would have had to have known them to gain their trust." She adds.

"Yeah, and this is really starting to piss me off. Do you have that list of friends and neighbours and everyone known to them?"

"Uniform has it." She says quietly."They're still collecting statements and asking questions. Donnie Fallow is meeting with us tomorrow to go over what his team has learned."

"Which probably isn't going to be much or it's going to lead us in a million different directions."

Casey Shraeger nods and tries to rub the tiredness out of her sleep deprived eyes, her concentration levels starting to plummet quicker than she can try and keep them up. Mentally she is drained and physically she is exhausted, a recipe for disaster when working on a big case.

"You go on home and I'll look over this stuff later." Jason says and gives her a sympathetic smile. "Go on, you're like the walking dead."

"I can last a little while longer, but thanks."

"Hey, I'm just returning the favour of being bullied into going home." He chuckles heartily and smiles. "And I wouldn't want you to lose your beauty sleep."

With mocked hurt and laughing, she balls up a piece of paper and throws it at him, which he catches and throws it back. They are like two children at the dinner table who are unsupervised and once upon a time ago, neither of them expected themselves to be this comfortable with each other, but time had changed all that. Casey and Jason were two opposites in every sense of the word, Casey being the logical thinker and articulate and Jason was the spontanious goofball who did actually make a lot of sense most of the time, but was rarely given credit for it.

"To be honest, a takeaway and a bottle of wine or two sounds great right now." She sighs happily at the thought. "Are you free or are you really going to stay here most of the night again?"

"Is that an offer?"

"Yes, it's an offer." Casey laughs. "And quit being a goof."

"It's one of my many talents."

"It's your only talent, Walsh." She teases. "Just don't go giving up the day job any time soon or you'll be broke in a year."

 

Empty foil dishes sit piled in the middle of one of the tables, two dirty plates and a few empty bottles of wine guarding the containers as jazz plays in the background. One bottle of wine had turned into two and two had turned into four and the next thing the two detectives knew, they were drinking scotch. It's a pleasant atmosphere and work talk had been forbidden as soon as they arrived with their bags of greasy food and clinking wine bottles. It felt good for them to avoid the nightmare of the case, to let their hair down and relax, even if it meant being hungover the next day and they would be for certain if they didn't stop drinking.

***

Sergeant Donnie Fallow from uniform is a big guy with a professional football players physique and the charm of a pitbull, his grey eyes studying the two hungover detectives in front of him, a stack of paperwork tucked under his arm as he settles down into the vacant chair, still straight and proudly erect like a soldier.

"Is that the witness statements from friends and family and neighbours?" Casey asks, reaching for the strong coffee in front of her.

"It is." Fallow answers and hands over the thick stack. "It was hard work, especially with Lucy-Ann Walker's associations."

"Why's that?" She asks.

"The people that Lucy-Ann hung around with weren't exactly law abiding citizens and as soon as they see uniform sniffing around, they go underground."

"Did anyone have anything interesting to say?" Casey asks, drained and tired.

"One friend did, a Janet Porter who has previous for dealing and shoplifting, all pettier denominations." Fallow explains."But she did give a name for one guy who had taken a very big interest in Lucy-Ann."

"What kind of interest are we talking about here?" Jason asks, his brain coming more alive with water and coffee.

"According to the friend, Lucy-Ann was trying to get away from her current lifestyle and even started going to church." The older man says.

"Church?" Jason can't quite believe what he's hearing. "Are you sure?"

"I went and spoke to the priest there, a Father Delaney, who said Lucy-Ann was willing to do everything to change."

"That's pretty out of character for Lucy-Ann Walker." Casey adds."Anything else?"

"Sure, a few things." Fallow nods. "I spoke to this Father Delaney and he seemed sad, genuinely sad that someone had done that to Lucy-Ann. But what's really interesting is that some way or another, he's had some contact with all our victim's."

"He knew all of them?" Casey asks, confused.

"He married the Parker's, went to Ryan Daily' s school twice a week for religious ceremonies and Lucy-Ann found him." The Sergeant gets up to leave. "All of it's in his statement, but he was pretty shook up by these people dying like they did."

 

A ham salad sandwich that has gone stale sits by Jason's hand, his eyes scanning the computer screen as Casey makes a few phone calls. The connection had possibly been made and they has to act on it, but knew there was no justification to look at Father Delaney as a suspect. At the age of fifty-three, Peter Delaney had ran the church since his early thirties, his church becoming his home as well as a refuge for anyone who needed it. Jason takes notes on what he can find out about Delaney and notices nothing out of the ordinary, descended from Irish immigrants and lived his entire life in New York, no charges against him, never been connected to any crime in the city and the old man didn't even have a single parking ticket, not one thing to say the priest is a person of interest.

Jason's thumb moves subcociously over his bottom lip as Casey ends the call and sighs.

"Delaney also took guidance classes and went to several schools in the city, offered advice and guidance." She explains. "And there's never been a single complaint against him. He really is whiter than white."

"So, he knew all our victims. He married one victim, gave spiritual counselling at one's school and tried to help an addict. Right now, he's our best lead."

"He's our only lead." She reminds him and sighs. "I'll call him to schedule an appointment and see where that gets us."

"Yeah, and I hope it's a lot closer to catching this son of a bitch."

Casey nods in agreement as she picks up the phone and dials the church, the number advertised in the local directory and manages to set up an appointment with Father Delaney.

Pretty quickly, the two detectives are elbow deep in paperwork for the case and trying to go through as many statements as possible when one of their colleagues walks over to them.

"There's a Yvonne Dennon downstairs looking to speak to someone from the case." The other detective says.

"And what's it about?" Casey probes without looking up.

"She says she knows who your killer is."


	11. Chapter 11

Jason and Casey had shared a hopeful, but sceptical look and walked briskly down to the small observation room that looks into the interview room via a mirror. They observe the woman who is sitting at the table, patiently waiting for the detective who let them know she was there, to get back to them with a person's check. The baby faced detective hands then some papers and waits, Casey reading slowly.

"She's known for a few minor charges, nothing serious." She says as she reads. "Nothing to say she herself is a suspect." 

"Did she talk to anyone about who she thinks the killer is?" Jason asks the young detective.

"She wouldn't say anything. Just wanted to talk to you guys."

"Thanks, Tommy." Casey says appreciatively and pats the younger man's shoulder. "We can take it from here."

They both wait until the baby-faced kid called Tommy has left before they read the woman's file in more detail, planning to use some of her history as leverage if they really thought that Yvonne Dennon knew their killer like she claimed. Both Jason and Casey enter the interview suite and introduce themselves, both pleasant and grateful that Yvonne Dennon had come forward, regardless of whether her information is correct or not, she still came to them and was prepared to talk to them.

 

Yvonne Dennon is a hard looking women in her forties with deep wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, her platinum dyed blonde hair and thick layer of make-up confirms that she is still actively working the streets. Casey can't help but grimace at the bruises on the insides of the woman's arms and around her neck and she knows what probably happened to Yvonne without her saying it.

"Miss Dennon, what exactly brought you here?" Casey asks kindly. 

"I already told that other cop why I was here. Don't you people communicate with each other?" 

"Miss Dennon, we already know what you told our colleague but what we really need from you is to establish the facts." The female detective replies. "You told our colleague you know who the killer is."

"That's right. I know who he is and you don't."

Jason mentally groans and tries his best to talk to the woman who is suddenly turning nasty and unresponsive to Casey's efforts.

"Yvonne, if you know something or think you know something, it could really help us." Jason continues his soft approach. "And it could save more people's lives. Can you tell us what you know?"

"I suppose you're right, honey. Mind if I smoke?" The older woman doesn't wait for confirmation and sparks up, blowing out a plume of smoke. "I bet you're thinking I'm going to say it's one of my regulars."

"And is it one of your regulars?" He asks, offering her the ashtray.

"Oh heck no, detective. That would make it very illegal." The blonde woman cries out and turns smug."Just cause I turn a few tricks don't mean I don't have my morals. Sick is what that would be."

"Who is he?" Jason presses.

"It's....it's my brother, well stepbrother." The woman sighs sadly."He always was a weird one. Never made friends or had friends in school, played video games all day and all night, cuts himself off from everyone even as a kid."

"Miss Dennon." Casey says suddenly, cutting her off. "You are describing half or most of teenagers. That doesn't make your stepbrother a killer."

Yvonne Dennon's nose crinkles in disgust, like a horrible smell has just attacked her senses and she ignores Casey and turns back to Jason, choosing to answer him instead.

"He was a prize froot loop by the time he was fourteen and our parents couldn't handle him, so the state whisked him off to some home that was really a prison." Yvonne explains."He got out and continued this weird program at the hospital, like a day thing where he had to go get his meds, but he stopped going. He got violent, selfish and petty with everything. This was a while ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday."

"I understand what you're saying, Yvonne." Jason says kindly. "But your stepbrother having behavioural and mental health problems doesn't make him a killer."

"Want to know what he got off on as a kid?" The woman snaps. "He used to torture little animals, squirrels and rats and mice. And then he moved up the chain and did it to cats and dogs, now people. He needs to be locked up, detective. He needs to be put somewhere where he can't hurt anyone else. I know it was him."

 

The two detectives share a worried look as Yvonne Dennon is led back into the reception area by a uniformed officer, their minds occupied by what they had been told about Leroy Dennon. It was hard to believe that someone had just literally handed over a relative to the police as a suspect and it didn't sit right with either of them. They spoke to the Captain and even he agreed that it was unlikely, but Leroy Dennon's history would be checked while a warrant was being processed for the medical records and child services file. It was an avenue that had to be processed, even if it sounded totally bizarre and unrelated.

 

†*****

It's been such a long day and the first beer has been refreshingly sharp and made his stomach grumble with hunger. He wishes he had some leftover Chinese and doesn't have the energy or motivation to make anything, including a sandwich. The second beer had gone down even more pleasantly than the first and he knew he needed to stop or else he would be hungover tomorrow. Still, he opens a third beer and sighs when a faint knocking on the diner door grabs his attention. He doesn't bother to turn on the lights and as soon as the door is opened, he is pinned up again the wall with a set of lips on his.

"Jesus, you're forceful tonight." He teases her.

"Maybe I feel like that and need someone to take out all the pent up stress on."

"I wonder who could help you do that." He smiles, innocently. "Any ideas?"

"Oh, I have just one and his name is Jason Walsh "

****Fourty-Eight Hours Later ****

The warrant had been signed by the judge without any problem and the various files from child services and the medical records were released almost immediately, which was a change. They had been faxed through to the precinct by nine-thirty, everything ready in the files to be taken apart and put back together again.

Every so often Casey will look up at her partner across from her, over their growing piles of paperwork and files and shakes her head, smiling. They haven't even made a dent in the information sent over and are trying to organise their next steps with lists.  
Jason had caught the look several times and ignored it, but now it is starting to annoy him.

"Okay, Shraeger. What's with the looks?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She answers, still reading and scribbling on a notepad. "Shouldn't you be doing what you have to do and you can let me do this?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about and for your information, I am."

"So exactly what are you doing there, hot shot?" She teases, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Going through Leroy's school reports. I didn't think they kept this stuff this long."

"Could be because he was involved with child services." She muses, tapping the end of her pen on her teeth.

"The whole family have always been involved by the looks of it. There's even letters from the teachers at school to child services."

"And?" Casey barks impatiently and shakes her head to herself when he doesn't answer her question."What did the teachers say?"

"Listen to this, Leroy displays severe changes in his mood and demeanour, turning from a pleasant student to a complete loner, choosing to withdraw from group activities and discussions."

"That's it?" She asks, perplexed as to why it would interest him so much.

"Nope, not even close. It says here by the age of eight, concern for Leroy progressed to the stage of having parent teacher meetings in school over his behaviour."

"And what exactly was Leroy up to?" She can no longer mask the irritation in her voice. "Well?"

"It alarmed the teachers when Leroy presented a class project on torture, particularly gruesome practices from the past."

"That doesn't make him a killer, Walsh." Casey answers firmly.

"Ah, but by the age of eleven, he did an art project and this seriously sparked alarm with his teachers. He made a clay model, one of a woman and painted it and sculpted it."

Casey sighs and is ready for throwing the stapler or a pair of scissors in his direction if he doesn't hurry up and get to the point. He smirks across at her, getting her own back for staring at him for most of the day already.

"Come on, Walsh. Just get it all out in the open and then we can decide what to do."

"Okay, jeez." He laughs and turns serious again. "Leroy made a full body model out of clay and it was grotesquely mutilated, looking as if the woman had been physically beaten."

"That doesn't make him a killer."

"I know." He answers with a sigh. "But it makes him unstable, especially when child services got involved and did all these home reports and with the reports from the school, something was going on with this kid."

"What else does the files say?"

"Parents seemed to have some unspoken battle between them and Leroy's behaviour got worse, becoming more of a loner and one teacher showed deep concern, his high school biology teacher asked for Leroy to be referred to a youth counsellor after he gave detailed explanations of how long it would take a dog to bleed to death after having its throat cut, how long it would take a cat to asphyxiate. Goes on to a lot of creepy encounters, especially with girls."

Casey agrees that Leroy Dennon is a point of interest and they get permission to dig deeper into Dennon's past, including conducting informal interviews with him and his parents, which would be interesting to say the very least. But before they went and spoke to the Dennon's and anyone they believed could be useful to the investigation, they had to do a lot more research through the files and make some phone calls.

"What did the facility say when Leroy was in their care?" Jason asks as he puts the receiver back into the cradle.

"He was an odd ball and was the source to a lot of the trouble in his wing. According to the carer I spoke to, who was also working there when Leroy was there said that Leroy would play mind games with a lot of the other kids, wound them up and then let them get on with it. One kid stabbed another and when he was asked why, he said Leroy had told him that the stabbed kid had been trying to convince the doers girlfriend to have sex."

"Sounds like a real charming kid." He muses and shakes his head, his fingers drumming on the desk top."What else did Leroy get up to while he was in the facility?"

"Quite a lot. He did however contribute to putting a kid in hospital."

"How?" He asks curiously.

"By whispering in his ear. The kid who tried to drink bleach and cut his wrists had been abused by his mom's boyfriend and Leroy had used that against him."

"And what exactly did Leroy have to gain by dropping poison into this kid's ear?" Jason sits forward and rubs his face with the palms of his hands, tiredness pulling at his eyes like weights.

"The councillor guessed it was so Leroy could control whoever he liked, convincing them to do what he wanted and was genuinely cruel if he found out weaknesses and used it."


	12. Chapter 12

Leroy Dennon had always lived in Ladeside Avenue, ever since he was a child and the detectives survey the monstrosity of a property from a distance before they go charging in. The yard is overgrown and practically a dumping ground for trash, the weeds and shrubbery either over grown or dead. Not a single piece of the house looks cared for, not the chipped front door and dirty windows, right down to the once cream curtains that turned brown with dirt. 

"I don't even want to know what inside looks like if this is what it's like on the outside." Casey confesses as she shakes her head in disgust.

"We're going to have to find out since Leroy is a possible suspect according to his stepsister."

"I wish I hadn't agreed to coming with you." She admits, her lips pressed thinly together. "I should have let you take someone else." 

"This is our case and I guess this is one of the ugly sides to our job."

"Like our job doesn't have ugly in it already." She remarks with flippancy."Alright, let's do this but I'm demanding we get hosed down before we go anywhere."

"That's a girl. Let's see what Dennon has to say for himself and then we can get out of here."

 

Leroy Dennon is stocky and looks boyish with a mane of shoulder length brown hair that is knotted and split at the ends, a stained grey T-shirt stretched over his belly. It looks like he hasn't washed in days and it smells like it as the fresh air is suddenly polluted by the stink, Casey wrinkling her nose in disgust and trying discreetly to breathe through her mouth. Jason shows Leroy his badge and sneaks a glance at the darkened hallway behind the younger man.

"Leroy, your name has come up in an investigation and we need to ask you a few questions." Jason explains casually. "Can we talk inside?"

Dennon nods and turns, opening the door wider to let the two detectives in and they cringe and feel sick as they move further into the property.  
The sitting room would have been spacious if it wasn't for the boxes of junk, piles of newspapers and pizza boxes stacked up like a monument. The air is dirty, the carpets sticky and matted with dark stains and the sofa that is covered in dirty clothes isn't any better. Leroy Dennon sits back in the armchair, his hand knocking over a soda can and watched it as it flows out onto the carpet, not bothering to clean it up.

"What do you want?" Dennon asks in a low grumble. "I'm busy."

"We can see that." Jason answers sarcastically, glancing at the paused Xbox game on the TV. "We need to ask you a few questions."

"You said, so ask." 

Casey opens the paper file and holds up the picture of the first victim, asking Leroy if he recognises her.

"Only from the TV." Dennon answers with a shrug.

"What about this one?" She asks again, holding up another picture.

Leroy Dennon shakes his head to every picture that he is shown and can tell the two detectives where he was on the nights of the murders, gaming online and they aren't surprised to hear it either.

"Who sent you here?" Dennon asks suddenly, his eyes meeting Casey's."I know you think I did it, but I didn't."

"No one is accusing you of anything, Leroy." Casey answers diplomatically."When we receive information we have to look into it, even if it seems impossible."

"It was Yvonne." Leroy answers his own question. "I know it was her and told you lies."

"Our source told us that you have have an interest in religion." Jason counters. "These crimes we are investigating have a religious theme to it or so it appears."

"What kind of themes?" The young man asks, his eyes narrowing.

"We can't discuss the details, but religious symbols were carved into their skin." Casey says finally and she doesn't believe that he has anything to do with the murders.

"I would say your killer is smart, intellectual and can gain the confidence of almost anyone." Leroy explains. "It's personal, the reason he is killing and the reasons behind it, but his method is what is going to give him away."

Casey and Jason share a shocked look and try to salvage what they can of the interview and within ten minutes, they are completely satisfied that Leroy Dennon isn't their killer and his stepsister Yvonne had been wrong.

The stink from the house has stuck to their clothes and is leaving an unpleasant lingering smell in the confines of the car. They drive with the windows open and look for somewhere to stop so they can get a can of air freshener to make the interior of the unmarked car a little fresher. And they need to shower and change, badly.

"He's not our killer whatever Yvonne Dennon thinks." Casey announces as she tries spraying a little perfume."But he is right about the killer and that's what scares me." 

"I'm starting to think we're going to need help on this, a profiler or something. We need someone who can help us nail this bastard."

"We'll talk to the Captain when we get back." She answers. "I just hope he's feeling charitable."

"That's like asking to win the lottery every week."

****

The request for a profiler had gone through without so much as a grumble or a protest from the Captain and whoever was sent out to advise on the case would be there within the next hour or so, so in the meantime the detectives went over everything they knew and basically twiddled their thumbs for the time being. That was the thing about asking for outside help, it never happened as quick as what they needed it to be. Always the same old story when time was running out.

Jason absentmindedly flicks through the newspaper as Casey places a cup of coffee on his desk. She looks just exhausted as he feels and then some.

"I thought you could use this."

"You look like you need it more." He answers, glancing over her tired eyes and pale skin. "Why don't you go home and I'll call you when this profiling guy gets here. It's after five and no point of us both hanging around."

"We're both tired, Walsh. It's not fair on you to be sitting here waiting for this guy to show up."

"I'm fine. Besides, you look worse than I do." He teases, unable to resist."Go on, I'll be fine here."

Casey reluctantly agrees to go home and squeezes his shoulder on the way by, feeling too tired to feel enormously guilty about leaving him.

"So you sure you're going to be okay here by yourself?" She asks.

"I'm sure, now get going before I change my mind."

"Okay, thanks. And I'll see you in the morning. Try and get home at a reasonable time and get some sleep."

"Will do, boss."

He laughs softly to himself as she leaves and leans back in the chair, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip as his eyes scan the case board. He keeps staring at it as if an answer is going to materialise out of nothing and he hopes it happens sooner rather than later.

 

Her muscles start to relax as the hot water bobs gently around her neck, loosening up all the tension of the case and everything else that is weighing on her mind. She reaches over for her glass of wine and sips it, feeling a little better since she is going to be going to bed at a much reasonable time. Still, she feels a little bad for leaving Jason at the office and she starts mulling over the case, even though she promised herself she wouldn't. The case has been going on far too long with no tangible results, no suspects and the one they did have were quashed. It seemed every step they took forward resulted in them starting off at square one and everyone from the captain and the commissioner to the Mayor wanted the perpetrator caught. But it was impossible to suspect someone when there was no forensic evidence, nothing to suggest someone the victims knew had been responsible and that's what's irritating Casey, the fact that every lead goes straight to a dead end.

****

The stranger absorbs as much information as he can as he waits for the detectives running the investigation, irritated that they aren't here at eight like the rest of their colleagues. He has already spoken to the Captain and has been asked to review the case from a fresh point of view, still very annoyed at the officers who haven't shown up promptly when the reception officer downstairs called them to tell them their profiler was waiting. Bill Cooke takes notes and does his best to come up with something since he is wasting his time and what intrigues him is the religious component to the crimes. 

Eventually, two detectives walk in sipping coffee and he knows they are the ones who are running the homicides.

"Detectives, I'm glad you decided to drop by." BillCooke greets them coldly. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

As Casey brings over a third chair to their conjoined desk, Jason grumbles and sips at his hot drink and already doesn't like this profiler. Cooke comes across to Jason as slimey, a man who would sell his own mother for a quarter and he has to try and let his dislike for the man go so they work this case.

"You said you believe there is a religious component to these homicides and I agree, but the question is why." Cooke begins. "Why does your killer leave the markings and what does he have against these people. That's what we need to find out."

Casey thinks it's a waste of time having Bill Cooke here as she rolls her eyes, listening him list off what they are already trying to find out. She can read Jason's expression like a book, annoyed and bored as Cooke keeps going on and on, adding a basic profile of the killer which matches forty percent of the population in the city alone. Neither detective are impressed by the profiler's work and go through the case board again, trying to find a clue or something they overlooked.

"Maybe we should go talk to that Father whatever his name is." Jason suggests, rubbing his forehead. "He's got religious background and might be able to tell us something we can use."

"It's worth a try and we do need to interview him about his interactions with the victims. Two birds with one stone."

"I'll call ahead." He says as he picks up the phone and a few minutes later he hangs up. "Good news, he can see us in an hour."


	13. Chapter 13

Father Peter Delaney had greeted his visitors warmly and instantly showed them into the vestry office that is no bigger than a cloakroom with piles of well used bibles and hymn books, the paint on the walls matching the worn carpet. The clergyman had insisted that they talk away from the alter boy who had been polishing silverware and preparing the alter for the evening service, concerned that the talk of such evils would spill into the young boy's innocence. In the first ten minutes of their conversation, Shraeger and Walsh had already established that Father Delaney had only married Angela and Matthew Parker and that was the last time he had heard or seen of them since, but Ryan Daily and Lucy-Ann Walker were different stories entirely.

"Lucy-Ann first showed up here at the church several months ago after a late evening mass, claiming that she wanted help to change her life. She certainly made an impression on some of the congregation."

"What do you mean by impression?" Jason asks curiously and looks up at the minister.

"We are both well aware of Lucy-Ann's lifestyle, detective and I'm sure that you aren't under any illusions by the way she conducted herself was enough to raise a few eyebrows."

"I'm sorry, but we really need to hear your thoughts on it and not our assumptions based on what we know already." Casey tactfully interjects."Please."

"Very well, I see your point. Lucy-Ann was high as a kite, drunk and dressed provocatively and managed to insult a few of the late night worshippers. One parishioner even offered to call the police, but I reasoned that there wasn't any need and just because we may not agree with a person's decisions in life doesn't mean it is acceptable or right for them to be turned away."

"So exactly what did she want from you, Father?" She asks and scribbles down some notes. "Did she way why she needed help or what she needed help with?"

"At first, I put down her eagerness to a moment of sanity in her drug addled mind and I told her to come back and talk to me when she was sure she wanted to go through with this." 

"And did she come back?" Jason asks scepticaly.

"Indeed she did and that surprised me. She was cleaner than she was, dressed more appropriately and was very sure of what she wanted and didn't appear to be under the influence of anything."

"And on this second visit what did she say to you?" Casey asks, perplexed as Jason is at the news.

"Lucy-Ann told me that she was in trouble and wanted to change her life for the better, which I believed. She said that she knew she couldn't keep living the way she was and I offered her aw much help as I could."

"How did you do that?" Walsh looks up and then glances around the room.

"A friend of mine runs a rehabilitation centre for addicts and she was receiving treatment from there, a substitute for her addiction and she received counselling as well as spiritual guidance when she came here."

"And your friend was happy to allow her into the program on your say so?" Jason can't help but be dubious as any program in the city had waiting lists and rarely allowed a person to stroll in and out of treatment.

"With my recommendation, yes. We believed that this program was exactly what she needed to rebuild her life. She was doing exceptionally well and went to every counselling group on offer, as well as spending hours here." 

"And you're sure she was cleaning up her act?" Walsh pushes harder. "You're sure that she wasn't stealing from you or still using drugs?"

"Detective, I'm sure she wasn't still using because it would have shown up in the test samples at the centre and nothing had been stolen since she arrived. As far as I'm aware, there hadn't been any problems. She was coming around to a better way of living and thinking."

 

The line of questioning changes to the subject of Ryan Daily and how the clergyman knew the teenager and what was said during their weekly meetings at the school. The questions were simple, how was Ryan before and during the meetings and if there were any worrying changes in his attitude or behaviour.

"Ryan seemed a little distracted when we last talked, preoccupied about something."

"Any idea of what it was?" Jason asks.

"He did confide in me that his parents were having financial difficulties and he was trying to come up with a way to help them out."

"Did he say how he was planning on doing that?" Casey asks curiously.

"He didn't say, except that he was going to work overtime at the deli and source some funds from elsewhere."

"And you didn't find that odd that Ryan was talking about acquiring money and didn't say how?" Jason asks quizzically.

"Of course I found it odd, detective and I assumed that Ryan was talking about selling some of his belongings. He admitted they weren't worth much, but he said every little would help."

"Did he say exactly what he was going to sell?" Casey interrupts casually.

"Baseball cards. Ryan told me his father and uncle had both collected baseball cards as kids and he had also taken on the tradition. He did say it would be worth something."

Jason and Casey nod in agreement, that the selling of old baseball cards seems plausible to raise money, but they truly believe that Ryan was using the baseball card story to cover his true intensions of selling test papers complete with answers.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Delaney asks. "Although, I'm not sure I've managed to help very much."

"You've helped us without realising it." Jason concludes. "Just a few more questions and then we will let you get back to things. Did Ryan talk about anything else?"

"I'm afraid not, detective. During our conversations he seemed very tight lipped on everything else. However, he did talk about his girlfriend who he seemed absolutely devoted to." Peter adds and sighs. "Maybe she will be able to shed some light on things that I can't."

*****

Rebecca McAllistar's mother hadn't been at all happy with the police turning up on her doorstep and had refused them entry to her home, explaining that her daughter had already gone through enough heartbreak and didn't need anymore. The detectives of course understood the mother's point of view and promised that they would tread carefully with Rebecca's emotions and offer as much closure as they could with the information they have, and then Rebecca McAllister emerged at the foot of the stairs.

"I want to talk." The teenager says quietly. "It's okay, mom."

 

"Why do you suddenly want to talk to us now, Rebecca?" Jason asks as he sits back against the sofa, tired of being jacked around. "And this time I want the truth."

"Because.....I feel guilty and I should have said something sooner."

"You're right and then two more people wouldn't have died." He tells the teenager and earns a look from his partner. "But that all depended on what you knew."

"I was scared!"

"We understand that, Rebecca." Casey adds in understanding. "But you obviously know something that could be the reason why Ryan was murdered."

"I told him that his scheme was stupid and he didn't listen. He didn't want to listen, even when I told him he was going to hurt so many people."

"What scheme?" The male detective asks and he starts to grow impatient with the girl.

"Ryan had this scheme where he would sell test answers to other kids. He wanted to make money for his parents because they were struggling to pay the bills."

"Do you know how he got the test answers?" Jason asks.

"All Ryan told me was that a professor who worked there knew how to hack into the education programs and would email him the answers so he could sell them."

"And what did this professor get out of this arrangement, Rebecca?" Casey asks. "Which professor?"

"A quarter share of any profit Ryan made and he never mentioned any names, not even a first name."

"Did Ryan ever say he was having trouble with any of the kids he sold the papers to?" Jason asks.

"He never said and I never asked about it. They were cheating and I hate cheats, but I know why he did it. Do you think this professor or whoever got him the answers killed him?"

"Right now, we don't know." Jason answers and sighs heavily. "But we are going to find out and when we do, we'll let you know. But you can't talk to anyone about what you've told us."

"Am I in danger?"

It would be tempting for the detectives to allow the teenager to think that she was, to serve as a lesson for withholding information in an investigation, but doing so could cause all kinds of disastrous consequences and hold them responsible.

"You don't need to worry about your safety." Casey tells her gently and she means it. "But you could have prevented a lot of things happening if you had just told us what you knew at the start."

 

***

"What we need to find out is exactly who was emailing Ryan Daily and why they were so focussed on selling test paper answers." Jason says as he leans back in his desk chair, a cup of coffee in his hand. "It doesn't make sense."

"We know that the sender had at least hacked into the account of Graham Mitchell and it was closed down by the IT department and then reopened by an outside source, so someone had to have had the know how to hack into it."

"And the IT guy said it was impossible." He reminds her, frowning. "But maybe our killer just knew more about computers and stuff."

"None of this case is making any sense because we have four victims, none of them physically knew each other and the only way they are connected is in the cross symbol at the crime scene and a knowing of one priest."

Jason let's her rant on about what they already do know and he thinks about the things that they don't know and he hates to admit it, but she is right. He hates to admit that this case is falling apart at the seams and every step they seem to take closer to the killer sends them miles behind.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteeen.

Asking for the publics help in any kind of investigation rarely ended well and the switchboards were inundated with crank calls from scared housewives, bored teenagers and generally citizens who believed they had something worth sharing in good faith. But sieving through the countless phonecalls and emails wasn't an easy task and it was equally as frustrating to deal with as the original case and it added complications. The upside to the appeal is that people would want to help stop a maniac who is walking the same streets as them and it would also bring a wariness to their perception of their surroundings, forcing them to take extra precautions for the sake of their own safety and the downside is that the news of a killer on the loose would insight panic, having people jump at their own shadows and afraid to go about their lives as they usually would and barricade themselves in their homes until the man responsible for the gruesome killings has been caught and until then, normality becomes a distant concept.  
In the aftermath of the press release, many hours were spent wasted chasing up false lines of enquiry and for every good lead, there would be a hundred bad and it wasnt surprising when the officers who were gathering the information were jaded and sceptical of every word they were told. They were all doubtful as each other over what was divulged to them through the hotline and it would only get worse if and when another body turned up. 

For two days the killings were broadcasted hourly on the news and the front page cover of every local paper and everyone was talking about it, speculating and throwing more twists that are merely rumours and the detectives investigating the homicides knew this would happen. They knew their jobs would be made harder and they would be pushed even further to breaking point, and while the media circus continued the families of the victims would be continuously pestered for interviews  
and exclusive stories, all the whole digging for the sordid reasons that attracted them to the killer in the first place. Everyone is feeling the strain while the public demands answers and the mayor demands a result, the killer behind bars. 

*****

The newspaper hits the desk with a slap and Casey looks up to see Jason pacing anxiously, his face filled with temper as he waits for her to read the headlines. He doesn't give her time to ask questions or for the article to sink in before he angrily protests his opinions and feelings.  
"They should try working the investigation and see how they get on with it. You would think we sit on our asses all day the way they're talking, making out we don't give a damn when we've been working this case solid since the first homicide. And they just scare people and have them imagining all kinds of stuff, like a bogeyman at the window or some axe-wielding psycho in the backseat of the car. And that's just the beginning. It's going to get worse and then god knows where we'll be."  
Casey understands why her partner is so enraged by the reporters assessment of the situation and she agrees that the article makes them look as if they haven't been doing anything and it feels like it with no leads. She sighs and folds the newspaper in half, convinced that the coverage is only going to make things worse and the both of them know it. But there is now added pressure to make an arrest and Casey doesn't know how to do that without having a suspect and evidence to support the suspicion, but then the bureaucracy takes over and administrators sit behind their desks and hand out deadlines and it creates even more problems than they started with, including public officials going on strike and emergency services or public workers going on strike was never a good thing. But what really pushed Jason's temper over the edge is that a relative of the deceased had spoken to the reporter and not just for that, but for saying the police didn't have any leads and that made his blood boil.

"Jason, you need to calm down." Casey finally says and some of their colleagues is offering looks of sympathy, having read the newspaper themselves. "Getting all wound up like a spring isn't going to help us solve these homicides."

"You're right, but how can some journalist sit there and say we aren't doing enough? None of us have had a day off in weeks and there's no leads, not one."

"Something will break soon." She says optimistically. "There's just...something we're and we will find out what it is. We owe it to the victims and their families."

"And some of them have already got our backs to the wall, Casey. These people want justice and right now they aren't getting it."

"They will get justice, but right now it isn't happening that soon." She admits quietly, frowning. "But it will."

She watches her colleague quietly as he stomps over to the window and she can't help but feel the same anger and disappointment that he feels. The article is a low blow and has knocked the wind out of them, but they have to push on regardless, even though it seems fruitless with no end result in sight. It's frustrating and every officer, no matter the rank believes that when the result comes in it will be worth it. Casey spins her pen around her fingers and sighs heavily as her desk phone rings and she can't help but feel depressed as she answers.

"Shraeger." She says into the phone and all Jason can hear is one side of the conversation. "Right...Yes.....We'll be right there..."

"Who was it?"

"Dispatch. A unit was called out to a suspicious death." She answers and she then confirms his suspicions."We've got another homicide."

 

*****

Central Park is blocked off with police tape and cruisers with two officers at every entrance and thoroughfare from the rest of the city and the daily commuters aren't at all happy about it and very few people understand why. Already there are rumours amongst the crowds of bystanders that a serious accident has happened and then the story changes to someone having been murdered and again it changes to someone being robbed by a homeless person and then it's a sexual assault. No one knows for sure why the place is swarming with police, so they make it up instead of waiting for the facts.

Casey and Jason stand over the recently discovered body and they share a look of confusion as well they try to piece together how the woman died. They still hadn't been able to link their victims together because they were all so different, but the killer had chosen them for a reason and marked them with his signature. He wanted them to be found and wanted everyone to know that they are his victims.

"Any idea who she is?" Walsh asks as he buries his chin in the collar of his jacket.

"Nothing." The patrol officer answers and glances towards the body again."Looks like your killer struck again pretty quick after the bad publicity." 

"Don't remind me." Jason grumbles and stomps over to Casey. "Who called it in?"

"A heavily pregnant woman who was taking her toddler for a walk. She always walks the same way and didn't think of it any different today."

"Jeez." He exclaims with horror. "I'm surprised she didn't go into early labour."

"The paramedics are checking her over, but she's more concerned about what happened and how it's going to affect her son."

"Natural reaction, I guess. Maybe we're just used to the blood and gore of our jobs." He suggests.

"I don't think any of us really get used to it. I think we just learn to deal with it better."

"That's a matter of opinion, Casey." Jason says and then changes the subject as the medical examiner walks over. "Let's get to work." 

The crime scene is equally worrying and surprisingly clean with minimal damage to the surrounding areas, leas stomach churning and grotesque to look at. But the scene is unsettling none the less and with the differences aside, the killer has once again left his mark. They are left with no doubt that their killer has struck again. The body of a young man is handcuffed and chained to a chair, his wrists chained to the arms and his ankles cuffed to the legs which makes escape impossible, not to mention the thick iron collar around his neck and waist. The victim is literally pinned in place and one thing they haven't worked out yet is why the victim is wearing an old fashioned gas mask. Between them they had quickly established that it wouldn't have taken much to overpower the young man with his thin and wiry frame, but they are still no closer to learning why.

The medical examiner has guaranteed that the latest homicide victim would be autopsied and processed as quickly as they can and in a brief email, they were given the basics and an unofficial opinion until the results from all the tests came back. The young man who was found in central park was a teenager, a seventeen year old Daniel Powell who had been in and out of trouble with the police since he was nine and thanks to his previous history, it had given the nameless corpse an identity and something a little more to work with. But what Jason and Casey learned next shocked them to the core and Casey had to excuse herself to the bathroom. Jason on the other hand delved into the troubled youths criminal record and got to know pretty quickly that his life was spiralling out of control and he wonders what had made him stray into trouble.

****** 

Daniel Powell had lived his entire life in a run down apartment building in Hunts Point with his father, Grayson. The elder Powell had worked as a handyman and had worked a string of odd jobs over the years in order to provide for his three children, his wife and their mother having abandoned them after their youngest was born. The file had said that Daniel resented and hated his mother for leaving, but loved and missed her because she was so absent. Grayson had become the father and mother role and had worked himself nearly to death on several occasions just to do right by his kids and to provide for them, but it seemed that the personal sacrifices weren't enough and Daniel started finding trouble wherever he went. It had started when he was eight and he and some older kids were found truanting from school and it didn't help matters that all of them were as drunk as each other. Then it seemed to escalate and Daniel was finally suspended from school after a series of worrying incidents, including several fights with his peers and attacking teachers, stealing from lockers and even some of the teachers handbags, but it went further when Daniel at the age of eleven set fire to the school and a child was killed. He was sent to intensive therapy and to attend a special program for troubled kids, a program designed to rehabilitate the individual into being a better person so they could rebuild their lives, but after four months of attending, his case was taken back to court to be reviewed and with all the evidence stacking against him, Daniel was sent to an institute for delinquents and then his record goes cold until he is reunited with his father at the age of fifteen. For six months there were no reported incidents anywhere, not at home or at school and everything looked brighter than everyone had imagined and then the nightmare started all over again and this time Daniel was causing even more trouble.

Grayson Powell had once been a strong man with handsome features and a head of dark hair, but now he looks old and frail like he has given up, a shadow of his former self and the photographs in the house testify to it. He sits in an old floral patterned chair across from the two detectives and his hands shake as he tries to raise a gold gas lighter to his cigarette.

"I always knew this day would come, but I never thought it would have been like this." Grayson says out loud and shakes his head in sadness. "I always knew Daniel would meet a sticky end, but this is.....terrible."

They give him a few minutes to gather his thoughts and they realise that it could take hours and hours isn't something they have, so Casey tries to gently push the older man into talking. She tells herself that it doesn't matter how small or insignificant something might be, it could be important and it could help bring justice one step closer. The father's face is a mask of devastation, sadness and shock as he prepares himself to answer questions that he might not like. 

"Mr Powell, it's very important that we get as much information we can about Daniel at this stage and I'm sorry, but there are going to be some difficult questions to answer." Casey tells him kindly. "What was yours and Daniel's relationship like?"

"There was a time when he would have come to me with absolutely anything, but that changed after a while."

"When did it change?" She asks.

"He was still a kid and it was around when he was getting into trouble at school. He just changed overnight and his teachers were pulling us into every kind of discussion their was to get Daniel back on track, but none of it worked. I....did everything I could, sent him to adolescent therapy groups, psychologists, counselling."

"Was there any improvement in Daniel's behaviour?" Walsh asks gently. "Did it do him any good to be there?"

Grayson Powell shakes his head sadly and covers his face with his hand as ash falls from his cigarette and onto the floor. He sniffles and swallows hard as he tries to speak and Jason gets the older man a glass of water and that seems to help.

"None of it did any good. He just came out angrier and bitter. When....as he got worse, so did his actions and one psychologist thought it was Daniel acting out for attention."

"And you don't believe that?" Casey asks and she and her partner already have a good idea of why Daniel Powell was so hurt and bitter.

"I've never believed it, detective Shraeger. I've always had this.....feeling that his problems was always something to do with his mother. He wouldn't forgive her for that and he wouldn't forgive me for not trying hard enough to get her back."

"Mr Powell, I know this is really tough but we need to know what happened between you and your wife." She tells him. "So we can establish the facts and what made Daniel a target."

"I understand, of course. My wife and I, we had always had our problems and they were financial. But she left for an entirely different reason. She left because she wanted to have someone take care of her and have the title of being married, but she also wanted to be free and single so she could go and do whatever she wanted with whoever she liked."

"And that's why she left?" Casey probes. 

"I gave her an ultimatum, detective. I told her she had to choose between her husband and son or the lifestyle she was living. She chose to be free and single."

"Mr Powell, how did Daniel react to what had happened between you and his mother?" Jason cuts in quickly."Did he ask about her?"

"For a few years he actually went and stayed with her. She was staying in this little apartment and Daniel was so happy to spend time with her. He was only twelve and I thought the trouble he got into before that was because he missed her and eiebt understand."

"And what made those arrangements end?" The female detective asks.

"Daniel got tired of coming in second to her. His mother cared more about her partying than she did anything else. I should never have let him go to her, but he wanted to see her. Every single time he went there she let him down and hurt him and I knew it was going to happen, but I did nothing to stop it. But what made it wose was all the chances he gave her and she threw them all back in his face."

"Grayson, as much as you knew what would happen between Daniel and his mother, he needed to find that out for himself." Casey says in a soothing tone and pats the older man's hand."If you had stopped Daniel from seeing his mother he would have done it anyway and at least you knew where he was going and you would be there to support him when the time came for him to realise that maybe he couldn't have his mother in his life because she chose not to be in it."

"You're right, but I still wish I had done something. I wish I had fought for full custody and maybe things wouldn't have turned out the way they did, but it's easy to say what I should have done."

Jason and Casey had established several things about the recently deceased Daniel Powell and one main issue was that his behaviour worsened after every rejection by his mother. It would be easy for a kid who felt abandoned to seek attention from anyone and it didn't matter whether it was negative or positive, but someone was showing some kind of interest. Grayson had managed to find his ex-wife's phone number and gave the detectives permission to take whatever computer or cellphone they wanted to look through for information. The technology would spend a few days in the labs while everything was copied onto a file and printed out and while that happened, the two detectives decided to trace the allusive mother.

****

Geraldine Dickson had sounded unhappy on the phone and she looks even unhappier in person as she opens her apartment door to two detectives who have questions to ask her about her son. Geraldine had tried to put them off that she didn't know anything and was also very busy, but both Shraeger and Walsh turned up on her doorstep anyway and she had no choice but to let them in. She had already been notified by two police officers that Daniel had been killed and was told that the news station was already broadcasting. Jason and Casey had discovered that on several occasions Geraldine had been arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour and domestic violence on a good number of times, as the aggresor and as the victim. The recently bereaved mother had shown her unhappiness about her two visitors and didn't physically look or sound upset about her son's brutal death, but it was put down to shock and eventually the truth would sink in.

"What do you want? I've got somewhere to be and I can't hang around here all day."

"We need to ask you some questions about Daniel." Jason answers and then asks the mother some questions and his patience wearing thinner with this woman and they've only just met."What was your relationship like with Daniel?"

"It was good. Like most parents and their kids."

"His dad, your ex-husband told us that Daniel stopped coming to visit." He says gently, knowing that evading his line of questioning and he wants to know why. "Why did Daniel stop coming?"

"I can just imagine what that twisted son of a bitch told you to make me look like a real heartless bitch. Everything that's ever happened is pinned on me and I swear if he could blame me for poverty or wars, he would."

"Your ex-husband said that your relationship with Daniel was strained." Jason states. "Any idea why he said that?"

"It was because I refused to stop living my life, detective. I have routines and a social life and having Daniel stay wasn't going to upset that."

"Didn't you realise that this was having an effect on your son and in the end he made the choice not to stay with you again?" He asks sharply and he doesn't like this woman one bit.

"That was his choice and I'll be honest to say that I was glad that he didn't come back. He put a damper on everything."

It's easy to see why Daniel Powell was so troubled and having such a self centred and egotistical mother couldn't have been easy to deal with, especially when so much time have been spent trying to connect the link between them. But Geraldine wasn't her son's killer and the detectives knew that, but they had to ask where she was when he was murdered and her alibi, a very public one and it was confirmed by an entire bar full of people and on CCTV. Yet, they are still trying to piece together the puzzle that seems impossible to piece together and too many lives have been ruined for it to take any longer. Jason and Casey return to the precinct, feeling jaded and angry at the lack of progress in the investigation and they can't help but wonder what is going to happen next.

****

Captain McGill's expression is stony and uninviting and whatever is going on isn't at all good. They had been told to wait in his office and they had shared an anxious look as they waited and as they try to figure out what's going on, the senior detectives brow furrows.

"You're trying to guess why I've asked to see you both and I'm not going to keep you in suspense any longer, but first I want to know what the latest developments are."

"We know the killer is using some kind of religious themed signature and he's selecting a varying pool of victims." Casey answers and she is doing a good job of sounding convincing that they have more than what they really do.

"What else?" 

"We're checking into the latest victims backgrounds and going over all the previous reports." Jason butts in. "We're close to nailing this one."

"Bullshit!"

The two detectives look at each other and then back at their commanding officer, their leader and their shoulder to lean on when they never advice or a new perspective. They aren't at all sure what this meeting is all about, but whateveer is going on has turned McGill's cheeks red.

"Captain?" Casey is the first to speak after the outburst.

"I said bullshit. You two have nothing and you expect me to believe that you do. You have diddley squat, no leads and no witnesses and a pile of corpses in the morgue."

"We're doing everything we can." She argues and Jason starts talking, but he too is cut off.

"It's already been decided."

"What has?" Walsh asks, confused.

"You're both off the case. The FBI will take over as soon as you've written your final reports."


	15. Chapter 15

The door to the squad room is pushed open with such force it could have embedded itself in the thick plaster of the wall and the thundering crack makes everyone look around to see a red faced Jason Walsh and a quiet Casey Shraeger in tow. They are both upset by McGill's decision to pull them from the case and they ate both showing it in different ways, Jason openly angry about it and Casey seething quietly. It's one of the reasons why they work so well together, one is a little hot headed and passionate and the other is a cool operator and uses logic over emotion, a perfect combination for a team.  
Casey watches Jason as he paces behind his side of the desk, practically foaming at the mouth while she tries to convince herself that bringing in the FBI to take over is a good idea. Their two colleagues on the other side of the room make a subtle but hasty retreat and ask if the other two want anything and quickly escape the atmosphere and then Jason verbally erupts, his temper getting the better of him.

"I can't believe he pulled us from the case and handed it over to the Feebies. They're going to screw it all up and if they get a result off our ground work, gloat about it."

"You need to calm down." She says evenly. "McGill knows what he's doing and sometimes a case like this needs a fresh pair of eyes to go over it."

"And whose side are you on?"

"This isn't about sides, Jason. This is about getting justice for the victims and finding the person who is responsible for killing them." She answers and is taken aback by his abruptness. 

"Fact is that by the new one the Fee vies go over everything we have, more bodies are going to turn up. There's going to be a stack of them by the time they find the killer."

"I agree with you, but they are more equipped than we are to deal with a serial killer." She argues and tries not to inflame his temper. "This case has just gotten too big for us to deal with."

"Bullshit."

Casey flinches at the harshness of his voice and avoids the angry stare in his eyes as he watches her and never has she seen him lose control of his temper like this, not even with a suspect he's interviewing. She doesn't know how to defuse the situation and watches him silently as he starts pacing again, his hands on his hips and suddenly he stops and looks out of the window through the dusty set of blinds and then he turns around, suddenly calmer but still angry and there's a sadness to his hushed voice.

"Doesn't matter what way you look at it, but we failed. We failed the victims and their families and everyone's going to know that when the FBI take over."

The female detective watches as her partner leaves the office space and she rubs her eyes in frustration. She feels just as devastated about being removed from the investigation and she is angry that it has been handed to the FBI, but she knows that Captain McGill has made his decision and won't change his mind about it. But instead of sitting stewing on the recent changes, she opens up the Murder Book and studies it, taking a short walk around the office to stretch her legs and by seven, she is still no further forward.

"Why were you targeted?" She asks out loud and flips over a page. "Why were you chosen?"

The answers don't come and Casey knows she is expecting too much, wishing and hoping the riddle would be solved and staring at the pages aren't going to help either. After a good hour of sitting at her desk, calling it a night sounds perfect.

 

******

A layer of dust covers the worktops and tables in the front of the diner and it's been that long since it was opened for customers and Jason mostly passed through on his way out to work or coming home. The diner looks old and worn, sad and depressing. When Jason's parents ran the diner, business was booming and the tables were always full and everything looked fresh and accomplished, but now it's not even close to how it used to be. Jason looks around and he wonders what his parents would think if they could see the mess he had left their livelihood in and he can imagine his mother's vocal reaction and his father's hard stare of disapproval and disappointment. Jason sips his drink and sets it on the edge of one of the tables and looks around the room, wondering if he could ever bring back the reputation his parents had grown over the years and he knows that he doesn't have a hope in hell at returning the diner to it's former glory.

The pitter patter of rain against the windows is calming and therapeutic, and Jason watches people hurriedly walk by with their hoods up and brightly coloured umbrellas, amazed at how quickly people race around. Of course he does the exact same and he wonders if anyone has watched him in the say he is looking on and then he realises how he envies the people who can relax, who spend their time and lives at a leisurely pace and he knows for a fact that would never happen to him. A frantic knock on the glass sends Jason back to the present and he opens the door with a genuine smile. He should have known she would have come.

"What are you doing here?".

"I came over to see how you were doing after today." She answers sweetly. 

"I'm okay, really. I guess I just feel like we failed the victims and their families."

"I know how you feel about it, Jason." She says sympathetically and rubs his arm. "But you did what you could."

"And it wasn't good enough."

"Jason, being taken off the case wasn't your fault and we both know that everything was done to solve it." She squeezes his hand and leans in and kisses him on the lips. "Let's go to bed and forget all about it."

"Casey, you're a bad influence."

"I know I am, but I'm only helping to take our minds off it." She smiles and kisses him again. "Come on."

*****

The first thing the two detectives notice is that their enquiry board has been dismantled and their notes and files that were on their desks the previous night is gone. They glance at each other and then they notice the two FBI agents who stick out like sore thumbs are sitting by the window, reading everything with scrutiny. Jason has had enough already and walks over to them and is ready to hold his ground against them.

"Didn't you know it was rude to help yourself to peoples files and paperwork?" The detective asks with his hands on his hips.

"I didn't realise that this investigation was any of your concern, detective." The agent calls Burton answers.

"Well it is." Jason says dryly. "This is our case and you don't know what you're dealing with."

"Detective, all you and your colleague has managed to establish is that there is a religious theme throughout these homicides and that they are connected by an unknown factor." Burton tells him. "You haven't been able to work out why this killer has taken an interest in these people and what they mean to him. Your Captain invited us in and gave us full cooperation and jurisdiction, so the case isn't yours to run."

"You don't know shit." The detective snaps. 

"We know a lot more than you do." The second agent called Mitchell adds, still reading and scribbling down notes. "So please, tell us where we seem to be going wrong."

"You guys don't know the background." Jason argues.

"Well, that is why we're going through the files and reports that you and your partner made." The first detective cuts in. "So, why don't you go back to busting school kids and leave the big fish to the professionals."

Jason has to leave the office or he really will lose his temper and end up being suspended. He doesn't like being given the cold shoulder by the agents and he doesn't like their attitude. He knows that somewhere along the line they are going to make vital mistakes and put someone's life in jeaprody and all because they wouldn't ask the local cops for help. Jason angrily kicks a trashcan as he stubs out his cigarette and a few of his colleagues have noticed and avoid Walsh like the plague, none of them wanting to be on the receiving end of his bad mood and volatile temper.

******

One Week Later

The word on the grapevine was that the FBI had spent valuable time going over what they already knew and reinterviewed as many people as they could, mostly the victim's families and friends in the hope of finding something that could crack the case apart. But the FBI agents only managed to cause new upset and open the healing scars and were sent away with nothing more than they had before and complaints when in about the two agents to their superior and in that time, their was another homicide.

Sheryl Edmunds, a middle-aged pediatrics nurse hadn't returned home after her early shift and her husband had grown concerned and his worry had doubled when he received a phone call from the hospital to say that his wife hadn't turned up. Deep down, he knew he was wrong to jump to conclusions but could tell that something wasn't quite right and called his sister to watch the three children while he went out looking for her. Jacob Edmunds had tried everywhere he could think of to find his missing wife, going into the several diners and late night coffee shops where she would spend her breaks or a few hours in between shifts, but none of the regulars had seen her. At twenty to midnight, a knock at the door came and in a single moment the Edmunds family were ripped apart by the harrowing and devastating news that Sheryl had been found dead in the park across from the hospital. 

Agents Mark Burton and Lee Mitchell had the hospital milling with police within minutes of the discovery and had banned the media and anyone involved from talking about the latest developments, but with any organisation there would always be leaks and the press had arrived just before the coroner's van.

*****

Casey and Jason had been reassigned to other cases while the FBI took control of the biggest investigation going in the department and they equally resent the agents, especially after the latest murder and especially since they guaranteed to have the killer behind bars within twenty-four hours. Jason can't help but feel smug since the so called "experts" are failing and he knows he shouldn't feel like that when there are more loves at risk from this killer, but while the FBI have taken over the case, Jason has been looking into things unofficially and he closes the page on his screen as Casey comes over, flipping through the bundle of mail.

"I have no idea why we would get cable discounts sent here." She tells him. "And coupons."

"It's like all the rest of the garbage people get through the door, a waste of time and unhelpful to everyone."

"Here's one we could actually use, two dollars off a regular sized pizza." She laughs softly. "Who knew we would be just waiting for coupons for pizza."

"Hey, some people live on deals like this or they save them up and get all kinds of stuff free."

"You're talking about that show with the fanatic coupon spenders." Casey stifles a giggle. "One woman got two free cases of dog food and she doesn't even have a dog."

"I never said it was always great."

They laugh as Jason continues typing up a report and Casey distributes the mail to her colleague's work stations, sneaking a look at the two agents who are looking stressed and much less cocky than they were before. A smile plays on her lips as she gives Jason a few envelopes and makes a fresh pot of coffee.

"Casey, you need to see this." He says, his tone unclear of what the problem is. "Casey."

"I'm coming. What's so important that can't wait all of five minutes?"

"This can't wait." He tells her and waits until she reads it. "This isn't good, Casey. This isn't good at all."


	16. Chapter 16

"Detectives, it has taken you weeks and months to get where you are now and in your investigation, you haven't gotten very far at all and you've lost the biggest case of your careers to the FBI." Jason reads it out to the room full of people. "But I won't allow that to happen because there's no room for interdepartmental prizes for capturing me and I'm sure everyone has their own conclusion to why I do what I do and the answer is simple......but you're going to have to work it out, detectives. The body count is rising and still you have no suspect, nothing to feed to the sheep outside who broadcast biased news. The FBI doesn't know who they're dealing with, but I'm sure that you detectives will be able to work out exactly who I am and why I've killed so many people. But here is food for thought, I won't stop unless I'm caught and if the detectives are not reassigned to the case, more bodies will be sent your way."

As Jason stops reading, a pregnant silence falls upon the room and everyone in it. No one knows what to make of the letter, but quickly it is photocopied and the original is sent to the labs in the hope that some sort if evidence was left behind by the killer. Agents Burton and Mitchell are especially quiet as their commanding officer, Chief Agent Donahue reads over the letter a good few times and glare across the room at the two detectives. The agents are seething under their black jackets and white shirts, furious at being muscled out and told to literally take a hike by their own boss when they challenged the demands of the killer in the letter. For fifteen minutes, the two FBI agents list off a hundred reasons why they should keep the case and naturally the two original investigating detectives counter their argument and explain that the killer obviously has a reason for them being wanted on the case and nothing good comes from the reasons why.

"This is stupid, Chief." Mitchell argues heatedly. "We were given this case 'cause these bozos couldn't solve it. I don't get why we are even having this conversation."

"We're having this conversation because the killer spoke out to us and not you." The only female in the room states in a matter of fact tone. "You heard what would happen if we were sidelined.".

"The whole thing stinks!" Burton snaps, thumping his fist on the desk."We are going to catch this guy whether you like it or not. This is why the experts are called in."

"I wouldn't call you an expert because you still can't tie your own shoelaces." Casey adds sarcastically. "Do you really want more deaths on your conscience, agent Burton?"

"There won't be anymore deaths if you let us do our job." Mitchell snaps.

"Then do it, but you let us do ours." Walsh snaps back even nastier and it knocks everyone off balance. "Do you even care about the victims and the families? It doesn't look like it the way you're acting and what makes it worse is that you don't see how much damage there would be if you took over."

"We won't be dictated to by you or the killer or anyone else." Mitchell sneers. "This is our case!" 

Captain McGill is sitting silently watching the exchange between the two forces who are after the same thing and Chief Agent Donahue looks like he's really going to lose his temper any minute, but who at is the big question.

"That's enough." Donahue says loudly and demands everyone's attention and still Mitchell tries to argue his point. "I said that's enough, Mitchell."

"Sir." Mitchell answers quietly.

"Good. Now, there's a reason why the killer wants Walsh and Shraeger on this investigation." The chief agent continues. "And right now we don't know that reason, but we soon will when he's sitting downstairs in a cell and everyone can sleep safer for one more night. This case started with the NYPD, so it will finish there too."

Mitchell and Button are clearly not happy about the case being given to them with one hand and taken away from them with the other and their unhappiness leaves an unpleasant atmosphere lingering like a bad smell and both of the NYPD detectives are convinced the two agents are responsible for the slamming of the internal doors down the corridor. 

"I would like my agents to assist you with whatever you need." Chief Agent Donahue announces as the four of them move to sit around a desk."They're at your disposal."

McGill gives the detectives the nod and an extra two pairs of hands, even if they are Mitchell and Burton's is a lot more than they would have had if they were going it alone. The four of them start by going over the first homicide, exploring all the details and discussing each victim and trying to establish a link and why the killer has chosen them to die. Guess work is never easy and it can get a lot of people hurt, especially in investigations where suspects names were released to the press and it later turned out the accused was completely inoccent and it created even more problems than everyone knowing that the police had no leads to begin with. In the end, some investigations like this one are solved because the killer got cocky and made a mistake, but the four of them feel that a mistake and a big direction sign to the killer is going to happen.

*****

A sinking feeling of failure settles in the only female detective's stomach as she rubs her tired eyes and stretches out of the uncomfortable position she is in, feeling stiff and sore. The others are feeling the exact same by their expressions and even the cold pizza and strong coffee isn't enough to keep any of them focussed after eight hours of brainstorming. A vacuum buzzes down the corridor as the cleaner moves around the building, having recovered from the initial shock of finding the homicide department still occupied. So far they had come up with theories and theories were good to understand the killer, but it didn't point them in the right direction of the person responsible. It felt like the entire day had been a waste of time and she is the first to voice her opinion.

"Maybe we should call it a night." 

"I agree." Agent Donahue says and McGill agrees with a nod. "It's been a long one. Jason?"

"What?" He asks as he looks up, bleary eyed from the paperwork.

"We should call it a night. We've been at this for hours and have gotten nowhere."

"You go ahead, but I'll stay a bit longer." The young thirty-something detective answers and McGill and Donahue leave quickly, sensing Casey's soured expression and and waits until they are gone to speak.

"We've been at this all day and we're all exhausted. You need to rest."

"I'm fine, so you go ahead and go home and I'll see you tomorrow." He tells her, distracted.

"Jason, it isn't fine and you do need to rest or you will be useless to everyone."

Casey's sensible reasoning isn't getting her anywhere fast and she is quickly losing her patience, wanting to know that he is going to go home and rest, and not stay working on the case that they have slaved over all day. She is tempted to call Captain McGill and have him send Jason home, but involving someone else is only going to make a bigger confrontation and she watches his red eyes move over every page for the hundredth time. 

"Jason, you need to get some rest or else you'll be sick tomorrow when we all get together again." She says softly. "It's all going to still be there in the morning."

"But the victims are still dead and we could have another one by then and we're still miles away from having a suspect."

"You're right, but you're becoming obsessed by this case." She answers honestly, harsher than she would have liked. "You need to look in the mirror and see what this investigation is doing to you. I'll see you in the morning if you're still here."

Stubbornly, Jason Walsh had sat at his desk for more than an hour before moving and he frowns deeply as he stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Casey is right that the case is having a negative impact on him, black bags under his eyes and a thick stubble, his expression and movements constantly fatigued and he notices that he is also losing a little weight. He looks like death warmed up, but he tells himself in the reflection that how he looks doesn't matter because there is a killer on the loose and the killer isn't showing any signs of stopping. More people are at risk the longer the killer is allowed to walk free and he wants this killer caught before anyone else has to die. The newspapers and news station had made the NYPD a laughing stock, telling the already panicked and worried citizens that the local authorities were at a standstill while a vicious and brutal killer stalks more victims. Jason had read the newspaper article and had watched the snippet of badmouthing and was furious, simply furious at their discredited opinion. He washes his face with cold water to wake himself up and returns to his station with more coffee and a bag of potato chips from the vending machine.

******

Sleep is the only way she can have solitude from the real world and only a few hours of uninterrupted peace and quiet is exactly what the female detective needs. She had been restless on the way home after the confrontation with her partner she had considered involving McGill and then decided against it completely because it would only create a bigger problem in their professional and personal relationship. Casey had felt bad about leaving him to work the case alone, but she couldn't mentally or physically take any more and resigned herself to the fact that tomorrow she would be able to look over the case with a fresh pair of eyes.

Cosy and warm under the duvet, an arm reaches out and grasps the ringing phone, sighing as every effort makes her less comfortable and rouses her from sleep. 

"Shraeger." She says groggily, yawning with her eyes still closed.

"Casey, it's Jason. You aren't going to believe this, but I've got it. I've worked it out."

"Wait, you've what?" She asks still half asleep. "What are you talking about?"

"I've worked out how the killer is picking the victims. I can't believe it took us so long to get the connection."

"Jason, it's three in the morning." She announces, yawning and glares at the alarm clock. "Are you still at the office?"

"That doesn't matter. What does matter is that we've got our connection to the victims and all we need now is a suspect."

"That's great, but we could have worked this out in the morning." Casey answers. "You shouldn't be anywhere near the precinct at this time."

"I couldn't sleep, okay? I tried to crash on the sofa, but there was too much to do."

"Jason, please go get some sleep." She pleads with him. "You sound exhausted and I don't want you crashing on the interview when we get this guy. Please, get some rest."

"Okay, I'll go get some sleep and then tomorrow we can go over everything I've worked out tonight."

"It's a deal." She answers. "Night."

Casey had managed to fall back to sleep effortlessly and when she woke to the alarm the next morning, she couldn't help but wonder if Jason had gotten any sleep or rest. He had sounded excited and keyed up, like he was onto something big, a decent break in the case and she understands why he had called her so late. She finds Jason sitting at his desk, bleary eyed and she instantly knows that he hadn't slept and had drank his way through several pots of coffee.

"Hi." She says quietly as she sits down across from him. "Did you get some rest like I told you?"

"I tried, but I couldn't relax. Everything just kept.....rushing around at a hundred miles per hour. I couldn't stop working when the leads were this good."

"What have you worked out?" She asks with a sigh.

"Well, all our victims were chosen because they were sinners in the eyes of our killer."

"Sinners?" She asks with uncertainty." What made you think that?"

"All our victims have the killers mark on the backs of their necks, a cross and when you look at what made them connect, it's obvious. They were all doing things or involved in things that most people are told is unacceptable."

"And in most religions, these acts would be going against their morals and beliefs." She states as she even starts to see the connection. "Like the ten commandments."

"If you look at the commandments, each victim's action fell into something on that list. He's killing them because to him, he's breaking the rules."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

It could be the case's biggest breakthrough and to sit on it would be completely idiotic. Delay's put more lives at risk and the body count is already high enough as it is without adding more onto the top. Any lead, especially like this one could turn the entire case on it's head and restore some kind of order.

"You look like the cat that's swallowed the cream." Casey says, stifling a yawn and hating being in the office at five in the morning. "Alright, what have you got?" 

"Well, we know our killer is leaving behind a religious symbol as a signature and I know now that he's picking his victims by their actions and lifestyles. In the killer's eyes, all of the victims were committing acts of sin and he didn't like it."

"I get that, really." She muses and takes a large gulp of strong coffee. "But we still don't know who he is or how he picks them out. There are thousands of people out there who could be sinning. That isn't helping us."

"You're right, but I did look into recently released religious motivated convicts and one stand out against the rest."

"And?" She asks impatiently.

"A guy called Sam Leonard, was released a year ago and went AWOL from his parole officer."

"That doesn't mean it's him. He could have moved to another state or to another country." She argues.

"That's what's interesting, Casey. This guy was here and he was receiving social security up until eight months ago."

"But if he skipped parole and was still claiming his checks, why wasn't he picked up?" She asks.

"According to the parole officer, he was and for some reason was released."

"That's crazy." She states with a shake of her head. "There's no way they would let the guy go."

"The P.O found out why and it was because he hadn't been in trouble and the only condition he broke was moving. By the time he stood in front of the judge, his parole period was over and he was free but had to pay a three hundred dollar fine."

"I don't like the sound of this." She tells him. "What else did you find out in your mission for justice."

"He vanished again and no one knows where he is. His P.O is having to get permission to send his mugshot."

"Permission?" She queries. "Why would they need permission?"

"She only said that Sam Leonard has powerful friends with a lot of influence."

"Could be why the violation of parole charge was dropped." She nods in agreement and finishes her coffee. "Can't you search his records?"

"They're sealed. This guy must know a lot of powerful people if his entire record can be sealed like that."

"Let's wait and see what his P.O has to say and then we'll take it from there, but you are going to lay down and sleep." She says assertively and guides him by the shoulders to the on call room. "I'll wake you if she calls."

"Promise?" 

"I promise." She laughs. "You better not tell that girlfriend of yours I tucked you in."

"I think she would get jealous."

"She has every right to be." Casey laughs again and turns out the light.

 

An internet search on Sam Leonard had provided no further information and no mention of the mysterious man were mentioned in the strange occurrences that had taken place before and during his arrest. A lot was happening at the time, mostly carjackings and assaults that were allegedly done by a gang, a few shootings and a stabbing here and there. But there was absolutely nothing written about this guy who had skipped parole and ended up in their city. Brick wall after brick wall keeps hitting Casey in the face and she wishes she could find something about this guy, but ends up glaring at the case board and drinking more strong coffee. She is frustrated and at a loss on how to continue and reads over everything they've come up with and tries to brainstorm some ideas.

Jason is violently wakened and startles as he looks up at Casey standing over him, already holding out his jacket. She is already wearing hers and seems to be ready to run off and is ready for running out.

"We need to go now." She tells him and throws him his jacket. "There's been another murder and this one is bad, very bad."

*****

Crime scenes and death always attracted spectators and the more grizzly and horrifying they are, the more people took an interest. Nobody ever seemed to care until it happened in their neighbourhood, on their doorstep and then they became concerned and outraged. Jason and Casey manage to get through the barriers and meet with the responding officer, the entire situation feeling like déjà vu.

"What's going on?" Casey asks the experienced officer.

"We got a call from dispatch to come out to this address, a hysterical woman called an hour ago and said her pooch found a body hanging in the yard."

"You're saying that the body was hanging in a tree in this woman's yard?" She asks, puzzled.

"There's a rope around the middle, holding it up and the uh....head is on a spike."

"Jesus." Jason mutters and shakes his head. "Is the woman here?"

"She's in the lady's across the street. She's shook up pretty bad and already wants the tree torn down."

"We'll talk to her once we've talked to the doc." Jason answers and can't quite believe it, but he can at the same time.

The doctor confirms their suspicions that the latest homicide is the work of the same killer they're hunting and adds that this killing is a much bolder statement than the rest. The detective's read it as a taunt and there is no identification for the deceased young man, unable to even guess the motive why he had been selected and killed. They learn that the woman had gone into the yard to hang out some laundry and made the grizzly discovery, screaming and screaming until she came to her senses and called the police. The first response officers had called it in and checked that the woman was okay and decided to leave the questioning to the detectives and for that, both Jason and Casey are relieved.

Agnes Poole shakily raises a glass of brandy to her lips and takes small sips, trying to compose herself enough to answer the detectives questions. She is sixty-four and has all her faciulties, and has a touch of arthritis in his knees but it doesn't stop her love of gardening. Already she has taken a shine to the handsome young detective and they plan on using that to conduct the interview.

"Mrs Poole, you've been through an awful ordeal this morning and I understand that you don't want to relive what you've seen." He says smoothly, gently. "But we really do need your help so we can know as much as possible about what happened."

"I understand, Jason. You have your questions to ask and I'll answer them, if I can."

"Great." He smiles at her warmly. "Did you notice anything strange around the house the last few days or last night?"

"There's been nothing odd that I can recall. Everything has been the way it usually is, except for today. But Mrs Orton down the street did say at church on Sunday she was getting a lot of pesky phonecalls from some charity, but she contacted the charity and they promised they wouldn't contact her again."

"That's good because nobody likes being rung up all the time and being asked for money." Jason answers. "Tell me your routine from yesterday until this morning and your discovery. Tell me what happened in your own time."

Agnes Poole then goes on to explain yesterday's routine, the same routine she follows each day. She had gone to the store after lunch and returned with groceries and then did some gardening at the front of the house. The detectives asked her if she had seen anyone strange hanging around or a new face in the neighbourhood, and she said she hadn't. They continued listening to Mrs Poole and took notes, asking questions here and there and were satisfied with her answers.

"During the night, did you hear anything strange?" Casey asks the older woman.

"A dog was barking and it woke me around three, but Abe Hansen's dog is always barking."

"And what about this morning?" She asks. "Anything strange?"

"Nothing. I did everything I usually do and when I went to hang out some clothes.....It was there. It was horrible. How could someone do that to another human being?"

Walsh and Shraeger left Agnes Poole with her neighbour and returned to the precinct while the crime scene techs did their work. The autopsy wouldn't be started for another twenty-four hours, so until then they would be spinning their wheels and hoping they caught a break somewhere to split the case wide open.

****  
The fax machine in the office whirs and hums as it spits out a sent message and several sheets of paper fall into the tray. But no one is there to read it and discover it's importance and significance.


	18. Chapter 18

The latest homicide victim is identified by fingerprints, a young man who had only once been picked up for drunk and disorderly. At first the detectives can't piece together why he was chosen by the killer and then it hits them when Dylan Mackie's sister reveals that her brother is gay and in a long term gay relationship. The victim's partner, Jon Warner is devastated and eager to help find his partner's killer. He told the detectives that they had met seven years ago in a gay bar and lists off the various places they frequented. They lived comfortably, but saved where they could off their wages and were planning on getting married the following year. Jon Warner broke down and the detectives left him with the family liaison officer who could offer more help than they ever could, but Jon had asked one thing of them and that was to find who took his soulmate.

****

The hour long conversation with Jon Warner had been sobering for both detective's and they are equally depressed as they write up the latest victim's name on the investigation board. It feels like they are going around in circles and because they haven't found the killer or even have a suspect, more deaths are being pinned on them. Jason rubs his face with his hands and mumbles a thanks to Casey who hands him a cup of coffee.

"What do we know as fact about Dylan Mackie?"

"Twenty-eight years old, lived with his long term partner for seven years and planned on getting married next year." he answers without having to look at his notebook. "They still went to the gay district and partied with friends when they could, Dylan's favourite bar was the Mermaid's pearls, they at least went to the bars and clubs at least twice a month when they were both off the weekends."

"What did Mackie and Warner do?" 

"Mackie worked in a bank and volunteered at the crisis line, Warner works in the district attorney's office is next in line to be lead prosecutor." He replies, sipping the coffee. "Two guys who have promising careers and then this happens."

"The only thing I can see that fits with the killer's M.O is the fact that Dylan Mackie was gay."

"It fits, Casey. It fits up nice and neat but we still aren't any closer to finding the killer." Jason sighs. "I'm going to get a list of all the places Mackie and Warner went to and we'll find out if anyone seen anything weird going on. We should check the other bars and clubs too just in case."

"You get the lists and details about the owners and I'll search the system to see if our owners have previous."

"There should be employee lists for the tax office of each place, try those first and run them through." he replies, already busy. "Jesus, who knew there were this many bars and clubs in one area."

"There is a large market for it. Even straight people go to the gay bars for nights out."

"Yeah, you walk in to a gay bar and no one judges you." He agrees. "Walk into a regular bar and you're history. I'll print these off and then we should go down to the places we know they went to"

Jason takes the freshly printed pages and sees the incoming fax in the tray, reading it carefully and then reading it over at least twice before he looks at the mugshot on the second page. He knows the face and it's the eyes that give it away. He hands the page to Casey and asks her what she thinks about it and they agree to keep that playing card close to their chests until they really need it and when that would be, they never could tell.

****

The bars are quiet, but it's still too early for every premises to be packed and queues around the block. Party time is just getting started and wouldn't be in full swing until much later, with of course plenty of alcohol. Jason and Casey had visited three different bars and the employees had seen Dylan Mackie with his partner and friends recently, but couldn't recall anything odd or anyone strange hanging around. They had their regulars and a few new faces, some curious and some trying to find a friend group to fit in with, but no one in the bars that made them think that someone was up to no good. By luck they stumbled upon the manager who works behind the bar in a very nice little restaurant who remembers Dylan Mackie and his partner frequenting the restaurant at least once a week, sometimes more and he's got more to say than anyone. They learn that he is also a friend of the victim and his partner, an extremely close friend who is actually heterosexual and just loves the acceptance of the gay community and how they are less keen to judge than others. Rob Fowler is thirty-two years old and has worked at Grandma G's for ten years, working his way up until he got the top position of being. manager. He is eager to help the police however he can.

"I'm not sure what I can tell you or help with because Dylan was such a nice guy. My wife can't believe he's.....not around anymore either. Do you know how he died?"

"I'm sorry, but we can't discuss Dylan's manner of death with it being an ongoing investigation. All I can say is that he died at the hands of someone else." Casey explains as best as she can. "You said Dylan and his partner came here at least once a week. When was the last time they were here?"

"Three nights ago, seafood night. Our regulars get twenty percent off their bills if they come along on themed nights. Dylan and Jon were always here once a week, didn't matter if they got a discount or not."

"How did Dylan and Jon seem that night?" She asks. "Did they seem tense like there was something going on or were they enjoying themselves? Tell me how they were."

"Like any other time they had been in. They were fine, happy like they usually were. They were going to get married next year.....I don't think Jon will be able to deal with this."

"So there was nothing obvious that something was going on?" She asks and then answers, a tempt to reassure the barman. "Did you talk to them?

"I didn't get much time to talk to them that night because we were so busy. Two waitresses had called in sick and our assistant chef walked out twenty minutes before service. He always was a jackass."

"Why did the assistant chef walk out?" She asks him curiously.

"He didn't like working around gay people. When he was first interviewed for the position two months ago, we asked him how he felt about it and he said he was okay with it. Before he walked out he said that another member of staff was making unwanted advances."

"And you obviously looked into this complaint." Casey states and he nods. "What happened?"

"It turned out he had lied about the whole thing and he wasn't very popular with the rest of the staff because of it. After he left, dozens of customers came to me and complained about his conduct towards them." 

"What did the customers complain about?" She asks.

"He offended them by making nasty and vicious comments about their sexuality. The customers even told me what was said to them and I have tried to contact him to get his side of the story, but his cell keeps going to voicemail."

Jason and Casey agree that the comments that were made to the customers were absolutely disgusting and left the restaurant soon after getting the assistant chef's details. They decide to go talk to him and find out his side of the story, just to establish if he had anything to do with the killing of Dylan Mackie, which isn't likely but at least they are looking into it. They spend the rest of the evening going around other bars and restaurants and decide to eventually to call it a night after dinner and they run the assistant chef's name by the captain and the extent of their relationship, and he decides that his detectives are better focussing on tangible links to the victim and not coincidental links.

****

"Casey, you're not going to believe this!" Jason runs into the staff canteen with sheets of paper in his hand. "Casey!"

"I only came down for our lunch. What is it?"

"The last crime scene." He huffs out breathlessly. "Dylan Mackie's crime scene....The tech's found a print and we've got a hit on the system."

"What do you mean?"

"We've got a recovered print from the crime scene and it matches the print out." He says a little more calmly. "We now have a prime suspect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you think the killer is?


	19. Chapter 19

The fingerprint from the crime scene undoubtedly belongs to Sam Leonard and now they have a prime suspect, only if they can find him. Already they have checked addresses with that name and six hits have shown on the screen, but not a single one of them prove to be the Sam Leonard who had gone AWOL. It's back to the drawing board and back to the tiring investigation that is taking longer and longer to solve, and even the FBI agents who are assisting the investigation are scratching their heads while they wait for their more complex systems to turn up results. In the meantime, Walsh and Shraeger pushed the department of corrections and rehabilitation to allow them to speak to Leonard's parole officer and allow them access to the closed records and eventually, they were granted permission and an appointment was set up with the P.O, a guy called Ian Hoffman.

 

Ian Hoffman is in his early fifties and nothing like the detectives expected.He is athletic and trim with a head of silver hair, wearing a cotton shirt and a pair of casual blue jeans and boots. They were expecting an older man who wasn't physically able to check up on his parolees, but he made a point of doing his absolute best for them, regardless if they wanted it or not. Hoffman's personal file said that he had once been a social worker for social services for fifteen years, and then took up a new position as a parole officer only six months after retiring. He already had experience since he had been involved in some undesirable people's lives and knew the runnings of being a probation officer after a few weeks of training. That was fifteen years after working in social services and in his fifties, he also had gone through some terrible things of his own, but they wasn't there to talk about his daughter. The interview is to take place at Ian Hoffman's home, a much easier place for the interview to be conducted. But they couldn't help but be curious as to what led the man to look after parolees, even though they had agreed just to discuss Sam Leonard. The house itself is very clean and organised, but is missing the frills of a woman. Ian Hoffman had poured three tall glasses of fresh lemonade and placed a box of cookies on the coffee table. He had already expressed his sincere apologies for the department of corrections and rehabilitation taking so long to grant the permission to allow him to talk about his client and allow him to show the detectives the physical files. Ian Hoffman explains that Sam Leonard had been in the system since he was six years old, his parents kept having kids so they could claim more money from the government. His father was a drunk and his mother an addict and prostituted herself to fund her habit while her kids went without. Her four children were thrown to the wayside as their selfish parents continued to live their lives. It was a neighbour that first contacted child protection services and a worker was going in and out of the house. Over the course of two years, the CP worker made report after report to her superiors regarding the children's welfare in the family home. They were left hungry and dirty, completely neglected by both parents and then taken into care and fostered out to various couples and homes. All four of the children grew into their own persons and led their own lives, but it was only Sam that seemed to stay in the system. 

"Sam was in and out of trouble his entire life and it's no big surprise that he ended up in prison. His file says that he started getting in trouble around the age of twelve, was caught red handed in the foster home torturing a rat. He was sent to a shrink and after a year was dismissed from the sessions, apparently feeling much more confident in himself and showed signs of mental rehabilitation."

"And during this time of therapy did Sam's behaviour change at the home?" She asks inquisitively.

"It was around fifty, fifty. Sam would act out and then show extreme signs of remorse, which everyone believed. On other occasions, Sam was suspected of violent incidents where other boys in the home accused Sam, but it was the boy's words against Sam's. There was no direct proof that it was Sam, not even when a boy drowned in the bathroom."

"Someone drowned in the home?" She asks.

"Yes, the investigation and inquest ruled that there was evidence to suggest that someone had held the boy under, but who was always the question."

"And you believe that Sam Leonard is involved?" She scribbles down the boy's death and the home they stayed in.

"Yes and it's always been something that's bothered me, detective. The victim in that case was a nine year old kid who was hard of hearing and kept himself to himself. He had one friend, one who we genuinely believe didn't know anything."

Jason and Casey ask a few more questions about Sam Leonard's life in the home and discover that he started getting into trouble again soon after the weekly therapy sessions ended. He was moved to another foster home after several more violent incidents and the same pattern followed there. At the age of differ , Sam was finally sent to a young offenders institution and was released at the age of eighteen. After going back into society, he was arrested after a small crime spree and incarcerated in an adult prison, was released and ended up back within a matter of months. All of his crimes were trivial and he served short sentences, none of them lasting longer than twelve months. After five years of being in and out of the system, he committed the biggest crime of his record and it the detectives to where they are now.

"The only information we have now is that Sam Leonard has a criminal record, but we don't know why. His entire criminal record was sealed as well as his childhood record." Casey explains casually. "We need you to help us understand what he was incarcerated for."

"Sam Leonard had a burning hate for prostitutes. I always figured that this deep rooted hate was due to his mother being one, but he always evaded answering questions about his childhood. He said he had already gone over with a psychiatrist and didn't need to do it again. But he was convicted of three homicides, accidental he claimed during the trail. He killed three prostitutes by strangling them during intercourse and his lawyer helped him plea for a manslaughter charge. He struck a deal that he would admit to one of them if the other two were wiped off and that's what he did."

"So he agreed to admitting his guilt to a manslaughter charge?" Casey repeats for clarification. "But why were his files sealed."

"That's what I managed to find out on the grapevine, detective. One of the prostitutes who were swept under the carpet and declared deceased by an unknown person was the Mayor's daughter."

"Do you have names of the three prostitutes?" She enquiries and scribbles them down, circling the middle one. "And the reason the records were sealed is because he was so closely related to those killings and the Mayor didn't want anyone to know?"

"Exactly. The mayor didn't want anyone to know his daughter was a prostitute and was known to the vice squad. He made sure that her name would never be connected, but destroying legal paperwork was one thing he couldn't do."

"Explains why the files were sealed." Jason comments.

"It makes sense now that we know why they were sealed." Casey agrees and then turns back to Ian Hoffman. "What were you first impressions of Leonard?" 

"I first met him the day after he was released from prison and he came to my office, clearly happy with himself but a little intimidated."

"He said he was intimidated?" She wonders out loud.

"He was intimidated about being out in the world again, expressed his concern for his new surroundings. He had an apartment above the soup kitchen on Pagent Street and made a comment about how all the wasters were stopping him from sleeping when they were in and out of there all hours of the day and night. I had a feeling he really hatred them for some reason."

"It sounds like he had a hate for everyone but himself, but it sounds like all these wasters reminded him of his own parents." Jason muses out loud and adds a quick question, letting Casey take the lead again. "Did you ever suggest that he get help or go talk to someone about how he fellt?" 

"I think you're analysis would be right on the view of the people round about him and I did suggest, even pressure him into seeking some kind of professional help. I even said that it wouldn't cost him a dime, but he still refused it."

"Back to the first meeting." Casey says, getting them back on track. "What happened on the first time you met him?" 

"I explained the rules of his parole, that he would need to come here and sign on once a week and that I would make appointments to meet him in his apartment. It used to be that a parolee signed on once a week and that was it, but now we do weekly checks of the home environment and see how they're coping being on the outside. I told him all this and that was fine with him, but he didn't like the standard rules very much."

"Which rules were those?" Casey asks.

"About curfews and what he could and couldn't do while on parole. Sam didn't like that he had an eight pm curfew every night and he wasn't allowed to go near the prostitute pick up areas or go to bars."

"That doesn't sound so bad when you really think about it. What was his reaction to being told about those demands?" She takes a sip of lemonade, all the talking making her mouth dry. 

"He asked how anyone would know what he was doing. I told him that the patrol cars that regularly patrol those areas because of the trouble, which we both know is only half true. The police only patrol some of the streets, but not the ones further in."

"I'm assuming that he intended to break those demands whether the patrols were in the area or not." She exclaims. 

"I always thought so. To my knowledge he never picked up any girls, but then again I wasn't with him constantly."

"We appreciate that." Casey says gently. "Was there anything during the course of his registering periods or the home visits that concerned you?"

"Shortly before he went missing I showed up at his apartment and found two other very....unsavoury characters with him. I took Sam into the hallway and asked who they were and he said they were friends and I had no reason to doubt it."

"What did the friends and Sam do when you were looking around the apartment?' Walsh asks.

"The two friends sat there like statutes and didn't move, but Sam wanted me out of there quickly and I just kept taking my time. I checked everything thoroughly and I took Sam to the side again when I found the empty bottle of cheap whisky in the trash bin."

"What did he say about the bottle?" Casey enquires. "Was he told he couldn't drink alcohol while on parole?"

"He could drink if he wanted to, but I found it strange to find the bottle since he said in a sign on session that he was teetotal. He hated drinkers and wouldn't allow himself to drink the stuff. Sam was very adamant that the bottle didn't belong to him and I had no proof otherwise. I could only push the matter so far because it wasn't part of his conditions."

"I understand." She says softly in agreement. "How was things after that particular meeting?"

"Sam was his usual self, but he could be high strung at times."

"When was the last time you met with Leonard and what was he like?" She asks the parole officer, looking for something crucial.

"The last time I saw him was the apartment inspection after him registering. He registered on the Monday and the visit was on the Thursday, but no one was home. He didn't have a cell, so I put a note to the door to give me a call. I went back later that day and the note was still there and he hasn't tried to contact me or anyone at the office."

"So what happens when parolees fail to keep appointments?" Jason wonders curiously.

"Missing the apartment is less of a bigger deal than missing a registering day, so we waited until then and he didn't show up for that either."

"So what's the procedure when this happens?" Casey asks before Jason can.

"We give the parolee twenty-four hours to make some kind of contact and then we force the apartment door, just in case they're lying there sick or worse."

"And was Leonard there when the door was forced open?" She asks, knowing the answer already.

"He wasn't there and he didn't have much in there, but some of his clothes were gone. We managed to find out when he emptied his account of money and that was the same day he registered."

"Did you have any inclination of where he might have gone when he went missing?" Casey wonders. 

"None at all. A BOLO went out for him as soon as we knew he was gone completely."

"Ian, what's really strange is that he was wanted for violating his parole and was still picking up his cheques. He couldn't do that unless he has a permanent address or bank account." She explains.

"Believe me, I've gone over that so many times and asked the same questions. No one can explain to me why. And by the time he was located, his parole was over and he was never locked away for breaking it in the first place."

"Thank you for your time, Ian and we only have a few more questions and then we'll be on our way." She tells the man. "Did Leonard ever show any religious preferences or anything like that?"

"He said he had found God in prison, but nearly all the convicts say that. He gave it a good show, knew his stuff if people pushed him on it. But he got more and more into it, almost obsessed with it to the point he was preaching it at everyone."

"Do you know if he went to church?" She asks and ticks the word religious in her notebook.

"He went to a church, but that's all I know. In his apartment there were a lot of religious things, crucifixes, paintings and candles. Some of the books he had borrower from the library were pretty heavy."

"We just need you yo look at one more thing, Mr Hoffman. Could this man be Sam Leonard?" Jason interupts and shows the parole officer a photograph.

"That has to be him. There's no doubt about it, detective. A little older, a little fatter and much more gray. This is definitely Sam Leonard."

****

"So now what do we do now that we've got a suspect?" Agent Mitchell asks and continues before anyone can answer the question. "This guy isn't going to admit he's the killer over a bunch of coincidences."

"We have a positive I.D, Mitchell and we have the fingerprint that ties him to the crime scene." Jason argues. 

"But you have no motive!" Mitchell argues and clearly hasn't read the recent report on the interview yesterday with Ian Hoffman. 

"The motive is that San Leonard hated his parents for their life choices, one an addict and a prostitute and the other a drunk." Jason says clearly, spelling out. "He hates people who mirror them and he chose them by listening to them, seeing them for who they are."

"It makes sense." Chief agent Donahue agrees. "It makes perfect sense and he got to know his victims sins by listening to their confessions, allowing them confide in him and then used it against them."

"Exactly!" Jason exclaims, pleased to have at least one of the FBI agents on his side. "He had some kind of connection with all his victims, even the victim who was beheaded in that lady's yard. He's making a point, playing God."

"So, how do you propose we catch this killer?" Donahue asks. 

"We set up a sting." Jason tells them and has already everything worked out. "I have a full proof plan to gain his confidence."

"Okay, let's here it." McGill steps in.

Jason Walsh goes over his plan in fifteen minutes and knows that Casey and McGill aren't at all pleased with his idea, but Donahue is greatly impressed and shows it openly. The other two agents had remained silent throughout the conversation and eventually, McGill and Donahue agreed that Jason's plan would definitely work, but it would also take time to build up that level of trust. None of them really knee for sure how long it would take, but they were willing to give it a go if it meant putting a violent killer behind bars. They call it a night and agree to meet early the next morning to go over everything again before the wheels are set in motion in this big plan.

*****

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Walsh?" Casey says angrily as she pushes Jason up against the wall. "Do you gave some kind of death wish that you need to offer yourself up as bait?"

"I don't have a death wish, Casey and I just want this son of a bitch behind bars where he belongs and I'm going to do what it takes to make that happen."

"You've gone crazy! You have to have gone crazy." She tells him and holds her head in her hands, frantic. "You need to see that psychiatrist the department uses because this is just insane!"

"Is wanting to do the right thing insane?"

"It is when you're going to get yourself killed!" She yells at him and tears violently run down her cheeks. "I don't want to lose you, damn it. I can't lose you!"

Jason takes her in his arms and cradles her head against his chest, rubbing her back as he talks into her hair. He feels guilty for making her feel this way, but being the bait for the killer is the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry, Casey." He says soothingly. "You aren't going to lose me, I promise. When this is all over we'll take that vacation we always planned."

"And what if you don't come back, Jason? What if he hurts you or kills you like he did the others?" 

"I'm going to be fine. That's why we can't rush into this yet, but everything will be worked out so I'm not going to be in any real danger." He says. 

"I know we have to do this.....but I'm being selfish and I don't want you to."

"I know, and I would be doing the exact same thing if it was you who was the bait." He cups her face in his hands and kisses her softly. "I love you and that's what's going to keep me going, me and you."


	20. Chapter 20

The Child Protection Services had written dozens of reports and had taped conversations with Sam Leonard and his parents, but it is more than obvious that the family weren't prepared to accept any form of help with their son. His school teachers had written many reports and expressed their concerns for Sam as on many occasions he was underweight and greedily ate anything that was on offer to him, even if he didn't like it. The same teachers had reported that Sam was dirty and unwashed from one week to the next and was being bullied and teased by his peers because of it. Not only did his peers notice how unclean Sam was, but they also noticed how his clothes were a mixture of too big or too small and he never had any money to buy any snacks at internal, never brought a lunch in with him and never bought a lunch from the cafeteria. Sam Leonard had been alienated before he even had a chance to get to know the other kids and the vicious cycle was getting harder to break. The school had written reports to the child protection services, entailing the many attempts to talk to the Leonard's about Sam and they were always given abuse and the door slammed in their faces, but what really made the school and the CPS act, was the obvious brusing and scrapes over his tiny body. It was discovered that Sam was used as a punch bag by his parents and they claimed he was difficult and this was their way of conterolling him, but no one else found this to be true after evaluations with experts and eventually he was taken into care and sent to live with a foster family. Sam Leonard's childhood mirrored the same story as hundreds of others, passed from one family to the next and was living with problems that could have been fixed with therapy, but kid's with problems were often given handfuls of drugs to control anxiety, depression and other mild to extreme disorders. It was a time when psychiatry and the use of drugs were being used more and more, but for the kids and adults who couldn't be helped by the chemical reigeme, they were institutionalized and forgotten. 

Sam Leonard quickly found his calling in petty burglaries and shoplifting, far from being an expert because he always got caught. The most recent trouble on his sealed record was that of the deaths of three prostitutes, one being the mayor's daughter and what followed after, is out in the open.

****  
Jason isn't surprised to find the church almost completely empty, except for the choir and the few members of the congregation who have gathered together on such a damp evening. He slides into one of the back pews and listens with intrigue to the sermon delivered by Father Delaney and lingers behind after the service as the same members of the congregation take their turn in the confessional. He let's a few people go first and then enters the booth, sitting down as the partition screen slides open.

"Forgive me father for I have sinned." Jason begins, talking quietly. "It's been.....several years since my last confession."

"And what is the reason for you not returning to God's house, my son?"

"I've done a lot of stupid things over the years, a lot of stupid things." The detective answers. "A lot of things I regret."

"Regret is the first step to asking for forgiveness from the Lord. We are human and only if we follow in God's love is their perfection."

"You don't understand, father. These regrets.....they aren't just every day humanity, they're worse than that." He says with a deep sigh. "In my work I'm supposed to lock away the bad guys and help bring closure to victims, but I'm just as bad."

"What is it that you are afraid to tell me? God loves every one of us, even if we do make unwholesome choices. But God gives us the chance to repent."

"I don't think God or anyone else can forgive me, Father. These things that I've done.....I can't be saved. What I've done....is against my working ethics." He tells the priest and wonders what the man on the other side is thinking. "I'm not any better than the animals I catch and bring to justice."

"Tell me about it, child. Surely your actions aren't so wicked that you can't speak of them."

"I....I've done horrible things, father. It started out a few years ago when I started....paying girls for sex." Jason says, convincingly. "But the sex wasn't cutting it anymore and I....started to have darker fantasies."

"God has forgiven you and know that God loves you. Is there anything else, my son?" 

"There is." He says weakly. "When I found drugs or large quantities of money on people I was dealing with, I confiscated it all....and I used it."

"God has again forgiven you. Anything else?"

"I've sold those drugs and a kid died because of it. He took the drug, went off with his friends....and then died." He says, sounding depressed and emotional. "I'm not a good person for letting that happen. I drink too much, smoke and cuss too much, I sleep around with different girls and I push whatever drugs I can get."

"God has forgiven you for your sins and you may give thanks to the Lord that he is all loving and all forviging."

 

Jason leaves the confessional and is fully aware that Father Delaney is watching him and through the mesh screen, he could tell that was was suddenly the focus of the priest's anger. Jason had hit on several flashpoints and was given a subtle reaction in turn, but it wouldn't be until much later that did Delaney's true colours came out.

*****

Jason can't help but feel proud of himself as he thinks over the fake confession with Delaney and feels the inside of his elbow itch as the skin knits back together. The FBI had inserted a tracer below the detective's skin and that way they knew where he would be at all times. It was no bigger than the contraceptive implant used by women and a paste had been applied over the incision to quicken the healing process. He had agreed to the tracker reluctantly after being told that not even a scanner could pick it up and it would always give an accurate reading regardless of what instruments was used to block it. Casey had definitely felt much better about the arrangement of Jason being bait and realised that it would be their only chance to catch the killer red handed and caught in the act. 

 

Casey sips her glass of wine as she looks out of the diner window and fights the worry that has surfaced in the pit of her stomach. Jason had gone for the takeaway almost half an hour ago and hadn't come back yet. She wonders if she should try calling him, but doing so will only make him worry about what she's thinking if he answers and if he doesn't answer.....she doesn't even want to think about it. All she wants to think about is the nice evening they're going to have with good food, good wine and each other's company. It's a perfect night for both of them. Another twenty minutes drags by and Casey's worry grows even stronger and eventually, she gives in and tries calling him, but keeps ringing out. Drinking the remainder of her glass of wine, she calls the rest of the team and raises the alarm.


	21. Chapter 21

A dull ache throbs in the back of his head as he tries to sit up and can't move. He feels dizzy as he tries to open his eyes and pulls against the ropes that are biting into his wrists and ankles, his hands warm and sticky with blood. The last thing he remembers is walking down the street with a bag of Chinese food and a bag with extra bottles of wine, and he vaguely remembers having the feeling of someone being behind him, and then the back of his head exploded in pain and that's all he remembers. Jason pulls against the ripe again and winces as it digs into the raw flesh, trying to make out anything familiar in the darkness. He has no idea where he is, but he has a sinking feeling that he knows who is responsible for hitting him over the head and leaving him tied to a chair. Wriggling free isn't an option, so waiting to see if someone realises something has happened or waiting for his captor to return. 

*****

Casey had raised the alarm as soon as she knew something was wrong and an emergency meeting was called, complete with a taskforce of fellow detectives and FBI agents. None of them had felt that Jason would be in danger so quickly, but it's more than obvious that they were wrong. Casey anxiously paces back and forth as Donahue briefs the team regarding Jason's last movements on the radar screen. 

"If you can track his movements back the way, you'll be able to find where he is." She says loudly, interrupting. "We can organise a raid to go in there and get him."

"Casey, that's not a good idea because we don't know what the location is going to be like. It could be booby-trapped and Jason wouldn't want anyone risking their safety for him." McGill says gently and squeezes her shoulder. "I know you're worried and I am too, but we'll have him out of there before you know it."

"McGill's right." Burton agrees. "We need to study these movements first in case he's moved somewhere else."

"So we just sit and wait until we're sure that Delaney still had Jason?" She asks, enraged. "And by that time be could be dead."

"And he could be dead already." Mitchell says and silence fills the office.

******

The dull ache in his skull has turned into a mounting pressure, his eyes on fire as he tries to fight against the ropes and trickles of blood dripping onto the floor. He still has no idea where he is, except that he thinks he's in a basement. Jason isn't at all sure how much time has passed since he had been there or even woken up, and wishes for something to wet his parched mouth. He closes his eyes and tries to reserve some of his energy because there will be a time that it will be his only defence against his captor and tries to relax a little more given the circumstances. 

Jason is sure of it that he's on a basement, thanks to the scuttling rats around his feet and he holds his breath and listens as a door upstairs opens, heavy footsteps on the stairs and then the heavy scrape of a reinforced door across concrete. He isn't sure how long he had been unconscious for and already it feels like hours since he's been there, but for all he knows it could be days. His mind drifts to Casey and how worried she will be, and then he remembers the tracker in his arm and prays that it hasn't been discovered and is still working. Lights overheard scorch his eyes as he squints at the figure in the doorway and it turns out that he was right about who the killer was all along. 

"Nice to find you awake, detective Walsh. How's the head?"

"Why are you doing this?" Jason asks, sighing as he plays along like he had agreed to, but now it seems all too real. "Answer me, damn it!" 

"And where's the fun in that, hmm? Anyway, there's a lot we have to discuss and it could take some time." 

"I don't know what you want from me." Jason mumbles in reply.

"Oh, but you do know and I'm going to make you pay for all your sins. You're going to wish you never, ever committed them."

"What are you going to do to me?" He asks, his gaze staying on the killer in front of him. 

"I'm going to make you pay for them all and you're going to beg for the final punishment. You see, people who commit such atrocities are sentenced to death by God's Deliverer's. We make you see the error of your ways and then make sure that you can never hurt another single person again and then, my work is done....With you anyway."

"Those people you killed didn't deserve to die!" He argues. "They had families and people who cared about them. You aren't doing God's work, you're playing God!"

"Maybe you're right, but of course you would say that. Do you know why you're here, Walsh?" 

"Because of what I said in confession." The detective answers.

"I'm not stupid enough to fall for theatrical make believe. I know that your confession was just a story to get me interested, but it hasn't worked. I've always had an interest in you since you started working this case and I know all about your sinful ways."

"Why don't you go ahead and enlighten me, huh?" Jason scoffs. 

"Does the name Amanda mean anything to you?"

Jason glares at his captor and wonders how he knows about Amanda. He doesn't see the blow coming as the mallet strikes Jason in the jaw and he howls with pain, tasting blood and feeling bone crunch. His captor looks proud, satisfied that he's caused some pain and Jason spits out a mouthful of blood and teeth.

"Do you remember Amanda, Walsh?" He asks and grabs his victim by the hair and forces him to look at him. "You haven't suffered enough for her death."

"I didn't.....I didn't ....kill....her."

"Don't you remember how much you loved baseball and how much money you made from those bribes?" He sneers viciously. "But you said the money was for your parents so they could keep their pathetic little business, but didn't want to take the bribes anymore and you had to be convinced...." 

"She didn't deserve to die! She had nothing to do with it!"

"It was the only way to convince you that it wasn't over just because you said so." Delaney says softly, his tone much creepier. "But they never meant to kill poor Amanda, did they? I wonder how it felt for her parents to bury her and know that it was because of you."

Delaney grins happily as he turns and leaves the sobbing detective to live with his guilt and grief a while more before giving him a taste of what was eventually to come.

*****

"We should know something by now!" Casey exclaims loudly as she bursts through the briefing room's doors. "What's taking so long?!"

"We're having to fly in the tech expert who happens to be on vacation on Thailand." Donahue says quietly.

"Then why the hell did you let Jason be the bait with a transmitter in his arm, and the tech is thousands of miles away!" Casey snaps. "How were we supposed to know if something went wrong if we couldn't read the location?"

"This has been a cock-up from the start and I wish you people or Walsh had ever talked me into it." McGill says in agreement. 

"This was our best chance to catch the killer." Burton says. "We didn't have a choice."

"And if Jason dies, the killer is still going to walk free." McGill argues, growing angrier.

"That was a risk we were willing to take and no one was expecting Walsh to be abducted so soon." Mitchell adds. "Chances are he's already dead."

McGill explodes at the agent as Casey runs from the briefing room and she can't bear to think about Jason being dead or living without him. She cries almost hysterically as she slides down the wall, McGill roaring in the background and not letting up. She is terrified of what may be happening to her soulmate and has seen the killer's handy work to know that the next body found, will be Jason's.

*****

The cuts and incisions had stopped bleeding a while ago, but the branding continues to burn deeper into his flesh. Just when he thought he could recover from the last beating, he was attacked again and every visit from Delaney led to even more suffering and torture. Jason isn't sure how much more he can take of this as his body and mind start to give up. He doesn't know how much more he can hang in there before he's found and he knows that sooner or later, Delaney is going to finish him off and he's going to be another catalogue number in a case file.


	22. Chapter 22

The detective's and agents are dead on their feet and feel like they are going around in circles. It's been seventy-one hours since Jason had been gone and their tracking device was rendered useless because the tech expert is in the process of being flown in. Casey and McGill fear that it's too late for Jason and they remain optimistic, but even that's being worn down with every passing hour. The FBI agents on the other hand are trying to speed up the process and have coordinated a team to use infrared imaging to penetrate abandoned buildings, the possibilities to be searched. So far uniformed officers had searched seven of those buildings that showed peculiar images, but found the homeless, kids who were hiding to smoke a joint or to grab a few minutes alone with their boyfriend or girlfriend. So far, the whole thing had been a disaster and it wasn't saving any lives, just putting one in more danger. 

Casey is sitting at Jason's desk, drinking strong black coffee and staring into space. She is making more pleas to a higher power that she hasn't believed in before, that she will do anything to have Jason back safe and sound.

"Casey?" McGill says from behind her, his hand on her shoulder. "You should go home. I can sit tight here and if anything happens, you'll be the first to know."

"I'm not going anywhere, Captain. I'm staying here."

"I knew you were going to say that and I understand." He says. "At least go and have a few hours in the on call suite. You'll feel better."

"Maybe I will. I have this horrible headache and I feel sick to my stomach."

"You need sleep." McGill says softly. "I'll come get you as soon as I know anything."

"Do you promise?"

"Yeah, I promise. Cross my heart." He crosses over his heart. "Come on, time to get some shut-eye."

She is helped by McGill to the on call suite, an old office space that had been converted into a bedroom several years ago. It was used by officers who were working extemely long hours during a case, some even temporarily moved in until it was done and then moved out again. Casey lays down and can already feel her eyes closing just as the door closes. 

******

Jason isn't sure what time it is or even what day it is. He's been held in the dark dungeon for that long that time has all blurred together, becoming one solid nightmare. His spirit is crushed from the interrogations, how every mistake in his life was cast up and used against him. Physically he is broken and beaten, ready for giving up. The detective has even lost faith in his friends and colleagues, all hope of finding him is gone or they would have found him by now. But what drives Jason crazy the most is the thirst over the pain. He hasn't had a drink in so long and his wandering mind thinks of an ice cold lemonade with lots of ice and extra lemon. With each passing hour he's losing hope.   
Before Jason has a chance to say or do anything, his captor has returned and is intending on making the detective suffer in every way imaginable. 

 

******

Exhaustion had made her sleep and a nightmare woke her. She dreamed of having to identify Jason's body in the morgue, disfigured from torture. She rubs her hands over her face and sighs. If there had been news about Jason, someone would already have woken her and not hearing anything by now just worries her even more. Casey wraps her arms around herself as she enters the office, chilled to the bone. McGill comes over to her straight away and hands her a fresh cup of coffee and a savoury pastry from the bakery. 

"I'm not hungry, but thanks." She says quietly. 

"Casey, you need to eat something and fill the tank back up. You won't be any use to anyone if you pass out." 

"I don't think I can stomach anything, but I'll try." She answers and takes the pastry, managing a small bite. "Is there any news?" 

"The tech is on his way here from the airport-" 

"Why didn't you get me?" Casey demands. "You should have told me. I have a right to-" 

"I wanted to make sure we had something first. I didn't see the point in getting your hopes up and then have you crashing down again if it didn't work out."

"I'm sorry, I understand." She tells him in a much softer voice, rubbing her aching head. "I know why you did it and I do appreciate it. Do you....do you think he's alive?" 

"Yeah, I think he's hanging in there 'cause he knows we're going to find him, whatever it takes. Jason's a strong guy, bullheaded when he's got something into his head and that's what's going to keep him going. Eat up, it's going to be a long wait."

 

Captain McGill had been right about the wait for the tech guy being long, it felt like forever. Everyone is on edge and feeling the pressure, all concerned about their fellow officer and friend. They don't even want to start thinking about what could be happening to him while they wait, because the pain is too much. Hunter Oakley is described as being the best in the business and he is not at all happy with being called in early from his vacation. He takes out three laptops and demands a cup of coffee while they all load up. He is briefed about the situation and grumbles, saying that there are other technicians out there that could do what he's going to be doing. Everyone just ignores him and he gets to work once he's had two cups of coffee. All the while Casey had been losing her patience and was told to keep quiet by McGill, knowing that the tech is known for throwing hissy fits when hurried along. Everyone in the room is holding their breaths as Hunter Oakley's fingers dance over the keys of two of the computers. 

"We have a reading. The tracker has moved around these blue dots, previous locations or journey to the final destination." Oakley says. "The current reading is on the right side of Westminster avenue, coming in from Torwood street." 

"We've got a location." Casey says excitedly. "Let's go." 

"We have to make sure the location is safe before we do anything." Chief Agent Donahue says. "We have a duty of care to our people that we don't unnecessariy put them in danger."

"So what are we supposed to do to help Jason?" She yells angrily. "To help Jason we have to put ourselves in danger to help him and you won't even let us do that, our jobs."

"You need to calm down, detective." Donagye insists forceably. "Our job is to protect and serve and right now i'm protecting several lives."

"Of course it would be a different answer if someone else was in the situation, like a politician or an inoccent citizen." She argues.

"That's enough our of you or I'll have you pulled off this entire case." Donahue threatens. "You stay out of the way and let the professionals do their job." 

"Agent Donahue." A voice from the door, Chief Commisoner Frank Barletta is standing there. "Meet me in my office. Captain McGill, a multiagency team is on their way to coordinate the rescue operation and should be here within the hour." 

 

The Chief Commisoner's visit has surprised everyone and what surprises them even more is Donahue's changed attitude as he silently clears his work station. It's clear that he has been taken off the case and even his two FBI colleagues are in the dark about what happened with the Commisioner. Rumours have already started to spread like wildfire, but it always would just be speculation since none of them knew for definite of what occurred. As promised, an elite team containing men and women from all agencies and even agencies that no one knows about finally arrives. The leader of the specialist group explains that they will establish whether Jason Walsh is held in the building and hopefully discover whether the building is boobytrapped by the killer. A few hours later, the tracker still hasn't moved and the special ops team returns with promising news. 

"Walsh is in the building with the killer and there's no signs of any traps or baricades to stop anyone coming in." The lead officer says. "We've also got the blueprints of the building and we know what shape the building is in."

"That means you can get Jason safely out of there?" Casey asks, breathing a sigh of relief when the man nods.

"Every operation has its risks, especially ones that involve going into abandoned buildings." He answers. "But what we need to know is whether you want the killer alive or dead if the worst should happen."

"Shouldn't we try a negotiator?" McGill probes. 

"We have one on the way, Captain. We always prefer talking someone out than going in and shooting first." The leader says. "If he's clever enough he'll choose to walk out of there instead of us going in after him."

"We want him alive." The captain answers. "If we can. He has a lot he can tell us and it the family of the victims would prefer to see the killer behind bars, not in a box."

"Consider it done to the beat of our abilities." The leader says and hope s up the blueprints. "Let's get to work and get Walsh and your killer out of there alive."

 

*****

It wasn't just physical torture, but mental. He was made to believe that he had killed Amanda through his own actions and horrible memories were cast up in the detective's mind. It is all beginning to get too much and Delaney has him Walsh exactly where he wants him. Jason tries to move his wrists again and the dried scabs of blood just sting as fresh blood surfaces. He has no concept of time and feels eyes upon him. He had made a sane promise, not to beg for his life.

"Well, this little get together has been quite fun, detective. It's just a shame that things will be coming to an end, but they say it has to be that way." The killer says calmly, enjoying himself. "I'll make your discovery really memorable."

"Just do it. You've got what you wanted, so just do it."

"I wonder what kind of burial they'll give you since you're a very popular detective." He teases sadistically. "But I wonder how they'll all be once the truth is out, Jason. They'll take away the salute and flag, just throw you in a hole like a nobody."

"I'll be dead so I don't care. Just get it over with."

"But i'm having too much fun making you sweat." He laughs. "I'll be back before you know it. I've got a service in half an hour and it would be a shame to keep my faithful flock waiting." 

*******

All the entry points are covered by teams of four officers, snipers on the roof that are ready to fire and an outside perimeter by armed officers. Not a single noise has been made because the last thing they want is to let the killer know that his game is over. Everyone knows what they're doing and in the back of a trailer a few streets away, Casey sits anxiously biting her nails. She is scared out of her wits and the back of the van where she is sitting is stuffy and airless. She can't stop her hands from shaking as the remaining officers move into position. It had been deceided that all entry points would be breached at the same time and also a sleep gas through the ventilation system. The gas has already had twenty minutes to work and starting to thicken in some parts of the building, then the agents move in.

 

Jason had seen the mist sweep across the floor, making him feel sleepy as his captor talked and talked. Delaney is taking great delight in seeing his latest hostage suffer and is also being affected by the mist, but seems to be unaware of what's happening. Thundering explosions shake the walls and Delaney moves out of the room, peeking out through the wooden slats over the windows and unable to see a thing. His movements are slower and he flexes his hands in front of him, seeing them move slowly like they are on pause in a movie. He pushes himself forward and back into the room that holds the detective, finally seeing the thick mist. He raises his gun to shoot as footsteps thudd violently from every direction. Delaney raises his arm and squeezes the trigger.


	23. Chapter 23

She kisses his knuckles, mesmerized by the steady rise and fall of his chest. He looks so worn out just laying there and his doctor had told Casey that Jason needed rest to recuperate physically and mentally from his ordeal. The physical wounds and injuries were easy to see and also easy to treat, but it was the psychological effects that had his physician worried. She had already arranged for the hospital's psychiatrist to come and talk to her patient once he was feeling up to it. 

"Where am I?"" He asks suddenly, his voice hoarse and dry.

"You're in the hospital and they've given you a sedative to help you rest."

"What about Delaney?" He asks, trying to sit up in a panic. 

"Shhh, lie back down. We have him in custody and that's all that matters. He can't hurt anyone anymore."

 

"What's he said?" The injured detective probes.

"We haven't interviewed him yet, but that's going to change tomorrow morning. God, i'm so happy you're okay. I really don't know what I would have done if..."

"Don't think about it, Casey." He says and squeezes her hand. "Don't think about it or it'll drive you crazy and I don't want to have a crazy wife." 

"Wife?" 

"Yeah." He says with a grin. "I'm asking you to marry me, Casey. Being in there made me realise how much you mean to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just need you to say yes."

"Of course i'm going to say yes, you goof."

She leans over and hugs Jason tightly and kisses him. She had also realized exactly what he meant to her while he was kidnapped and she hopes that she will never have to go through that again. She is sitting on the edge of the bed with his hand in hers when he says something that puzzles her.

"I became a real target for him and I actually thought it was game over."

"Because of what you told him in the confession?" She wonders. 

"Because of what happened with Amanda. Somehow he knows and holds me responsible, but I don't know why."

"That doesn't make sense." She tells him. "How could he know about that unless he knew you both personally?" 

"Neither of us knew a Sam Leonard. The name doesn't ring any bells, period. Maybe he's just some crank, but he knew too much about all of us."

"That's weird. He would only know all of that if he had been around at the time." Casey agrees, a suspicious feeling growing. "Are you sure he wasn't around or knew you in some way?"

"I'm pretty sure. I would have remembered the name. But he seems to know me."

"I'll work on it." She says and kisses his forehead. "Get some rest and i'll pop by later."

"Casey, tell McGill I want in on the interview."

"There's no way he's going to allow that, especially now it seems personal." She reasons. "And you're in hospital after this guy tortured you for days."

"He's made it personal and that's why I need to be there. It makes sense and it's going to get him mad, which means he's going to lose his cool."

"Okay." She raises her hands in the air. "I'll talk to the captain, but you're staying here at least until morning. Deal?"

"Deal. And thanks."

"I'll let you know as soon as I know." She gives him a kiss and leaves, going back to the precinct.

 

Captain McGill had been less than impressed with Walsh's request and reluctantly he agreed after Casey argued her partner's case. It was set, that Jason would be in the interview room with the killer and his abductor. He just hoped that Walsh's emotions didn't run too high and blow the case out the water.

 

****

Sam Leonard is as cool as a cucumber and smirked when Walsh and Shraeger stepped into the interview room. All the formalities follow and the fresh faced lawyer looks pale next to his client. He had been given copies of the evidence and reports against his client, but they had made him queasy and seek the soltitude of the bathroom. The lawyer's first solo case wasnt going to be pretty.

"Do you know any of these people, Mr Leonard?" Casey asks as she spreads photographs of the victins on the table.

"No comment." Leonard answers.

"That's strange, because photographs were found in a secure box when we searched the building." She clears it up for the benefit of the tape. "How did they come to be in your possession when you say you don't know them?"

"No comment." He says again.

"It's very strange how your alter ego, father Delandy knew or had involvement with the victims or knew them." She points out.

"That is strange." The killer says finally. "I know why, but if I told you then that would be me doing your job for you." 

"Well, we can just charge you and hold you until a trial date is set." She says with finality. "But I thought the whole purpose of your actions were to cleanse the world of some kind of evil you believe existed."

"You're right detective. I was cleansing the world of evil and I would have been successful if I had gotten away with it." Leonard smirks. "I would have rid the world of a sickness."

"But you were also contributing to that evil by what you were doing." She reminds him. "Why don't you tell me how you knew each victim and why you killed them."

Behind the two-way mirror, officers who had assisted in one way or another on the case were crammed into the tiny room. Even once it was filled to bursting, people kept on trying to squeeze in. Everyone was eager to the hear the confessions of the serial killer they all hunted and word had already gotten out of the precinct that a suspect had been arrested. The media are in a frenzy and are willing to cut each other's throats to get their story.

"Now that you've explained that for the benefit of the tape, explain why you found Detective Walsh a victim." Casey states and refers to a written report staying how and why Walsh used himself as bait. "You already knew those fake confessions were lies, so why did you continue after him?" 

"Because he is evil, detective. I wouldn't expect you to understand that, but it's true. Someone died because of him and he never faced the consequences or any."

"Explain what you're referring to, Mr Leonard." His attorney says. "Since you're agreeing to to this and admitting your crimes."

"Amanda. Poor Amanda, barely having lived her life and then it was taken from her. She was murdered to make a point, a message to you detective Walsh or don't you remember?"

"I remember." Walsh answers finally. "So, tell me why you had to be this maskdd crusader."

"You had to pay the price, to suffer like she did. All my victims suffered like their loved ones did while they stood and watched the carnage of their actions .You had to suffer how poor Amanda's family suffered, in this case."

"You don't have the right to deal out punishment to anyone." Jason answers with tongue in cheek.

"I only did what society failed to do, detective. It's just a pity I didn't get longer to show you that I really meant business."

The topic of conversation went on for a while longer, then Leonard's attorney demanded a refreshment break. While he went to a deli across the street, his client was returned to his cell and given a sack lunch. Meanwhile, the detectives and FBI agents worked harder to delve even deeper into the killer's past and finally they found a possible answer as to what had started everything in the first place.


End file.
